BASE # 03 by BASE magazine

t h e ad ve n t ure q ua r te r l y

B I K E K URD I STAN

SKI NORWAY

D I VE D E E P E R

TI DA L T RAV E L

What Would You Do Without Winter? Your winter. Your choice. Powder days are worth protecting. Connect with local groups and fight the climate crisis from your own backyard.

eu.patagonia.com/yourwinter

A bummed skier makes the best of it at the local lanes. Garrett Grove ÂŠ 2020 Patagonia, Inc.

Advocates for exploration, cheerleaders for the road less travelled You’re in good company with komoot. Pioneering the Baja Divide and a familiar face in big bikepacking races like the Tour Divide in the US and the Silk Road Mountain Race in Kyrgyzstan, Lael Wilcox is renowned for her adventurous spirit. What you may not know is that komoot is essential to her route planning set up. She loves komoot for introducing her to routes, that she would never plan or expect to ride herself. In her own words, “It’s so much fun!” Komoot helps Lael Wilcox tap into her inner explorer, and it can help you plan and navigate your own adventures too. On or off the beaten track.

Unlock a region bundle worth £8.99, for free. Go to komoot.com/g and enter the code:

BASE2020

komoot.com

Photo by Rugile Kaladyte

achieve the extraordinary

Expeditions / Adventures / TV & Film www.secretcompass.com Afghanistan / Sudan / North Korea / SOCOTRA / DRC / MONGOLIA

Kamchatka / I raqi Kurdistan / I RAN / Greenland / VENEZUELA

TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S

Features

D epa r t ment s 14 B A S E N O T E S

16 H Y P E R B O R E A

The world’s most significant adventure sports news

Off-piste skiing in Arctic Norway

Chris Hunt

Hamish Frost

48 K E M P S T O N H A R D W I C K

24 T H E L O S T T R A I L S O F Z A G R O S

The diary of Bedfordshire’s greatest adventurer

Mountain bike exploration in Iraqi Kurdistan

Dan Milner

Aaron Gulley & Dan Milner

60 B A C K T O B A S E

32 D E E P W A Y D O W N

The danger zone: risk & reward in climbing

A diver’s journey into the underwater world

Tom Livingstone

Will Appleyard

64 B A S E G E A R

40 B E Y O N D T H E A M P H I D R O M E

The leading insulated jackets of winter 2020

An adventurer’s guide to tides and currents

The BASE review team

William Thompson

66 B E Y O N D B A S E

52 T H E B A S E I N T E R V I E W

A short introduction to expedition medicine

In conversation with snowboarder Marie-France Roy

Dr Mark Willis

Hannah Bailey

76 B A S E C U L T U R E Lightning in the dark

Tessa Lyons & Ben Silvestre

70 B A S E T E C H

Sole survivors: the story of rubber adventure footwear Chris Hunt

Cont ri b u t ors Dan Milner

Tom Livingstone

Lukasz Warzecha

William Thompson

Aaron Gulley

Ben Silvestre

Hannah Bailey

Chad Chomlack

Dr. Mark Willis

Rugile Kaladyte

Hamish Frost

Will Appleyard

Marie-France Roy

Editor & Creative Director David Pickford Associate Editor Chris Hunt

Publishing Manager Emily Graham Design Joe Walczak

Tessa Lyons

Jussi Grznar Scott Serfas

Publisher Secret Compass

Enquiries hello@base-mag.com

Submissions submissions@base-mag.com Advertising emily@base-mag.com

COVER: Fabian Linge charging down the rain-scoured slopes of Hellskarnuten in Norway’s Lofoten Islands at sunset, after a day of high temperatures and precipitation turned a snowpack of deep powder to spring-like conditions over the course of 12 hours. Rapid changes in snow and weather conditions are a relatively common occurrence in the coastal climate of the Lofoten Islands. HAMISH FROST

MY LIGHT MY WAY

ÂŠ 2019 Petzl Distribution - Frank Kretschmann

FABIAN BUHL // I just love climbing in all of its forms: ice climbing, mountaineering and multipitch climbing. They all have their unique allure, but the satisfaction of spending long days in the beautiful, peaceful mountains is the most rewarding aspect of all! It makes me feel alive, small, and it frees my mind. #petzlnightlife

SWIFT RL

Compact multi-beam headlamp, ultra-powerful and rechargeable, with REACTIVE LIGHTING technology. 900 lumens. www.petzl.com

EDI TOR’S LET T ER The hu nt er i n t he mi nd

ometimes, as I’m heading out, I think of the hunters.

who’s a very experienced mountaineer, glanced up at the bowl

tracking a big animal - perhaps several animals. They're working

English tone: ‘Look at this. We’ve just skied into a death trap’.

They're somewhere in Africa a very long time ago. They're

as a small group. Constantly aware of the danger inherent in

before he turned back to me and said in a characteristically dry

I think we both felt the classic fear conditioning response

what they're doing, they never let their attention stray from the

of goose bumps (electrodermal activity) and a raised pulse as we

they're always looking for signals in the landscape. Tracks in a

that our Palaeolithic hunter would have frequently had out

task in hand. Their environmental intelligence is highly tuned; dry river bed, an area of displaced grass, a shadow moving across

the plain - all these could signal prey or predator, opportunity or danger. Since their lives involve frequent contact with extreme risk, what keeps them safe above all else is one of the oldest and most powerful of behavioural paradigms: fear.

From an evolutionary perspective, fear is the means by

which all animals learn to predict potentially harmful events. And just as it was crucial to the survival and success of Palaeolithic people, it is also vital to the safety and success of

realised just how high the avalanche risk was: the same feeling there on the African plain. It was obvious that we needed to get

the hell out of the bowl, and get out quickly. Without another

word we traversed as fast as possible skier’s right to reach the

relative safety of the forest, where we stopped for a short break. Less than an hour later as we were skiing safely in the trees, a

menacing roar echoed across from the bowl, like the sound of a freight train emerging from a tunnel. A large avalanche had

swept down the entire thing, big enough to bury a pair of skiers.

I haven’t made a mistake like that in the mountains since.

any modern adventurer or explorer. Whatever you're doing out

We went somewhere we simply shouldn’t have gone given the

Channeling the mindset of those unknown hunters somewhere

to getting us out of that dangerous position - and out quickly.

there, fear can be one of the sharpest tools in your survival kit. in Africa in the earliest days of the human experience can be

conditions, but we got away with it. Fear was the key, though, But it’s also worth asking why we chose to ski that bowl

extremely useful. In simple terms, this means being constantly

in those conditions in the first place. I think we both knew

to them. The following story may explain why.

enthusiasm to overrule pragmatism: a case of 'the normalisation

alert to changes and signs in the environment, and responding A few years ago, I made a serious although fortunately

escapable mistake whilst off-piste skiing in a remote part of the

deep down it was too risky, yet the lure of fresh snow allowed of deviance' that I wrote about here in the last issue.

Approaching fear as an instructive tool - rather than as an

Ecrins massif in the western Alps. It had snowed heavily for

obstacle to be overcome - is a solid approach for anyone heading

Arctic air and lots of precipitation with it: a dream combination

the hackneyed phrase ‘overcoming your fears’ is fundamentally

two days as a cold front pushed southeast across Europe, pulling

for any big-mountain skier. A friend and I were making the

most of the excellent powder. First, we did a few tree runs, our skis frequently vanishing in a deep layer of fresh snow as light

as champagne froth. Once we’d warmed up, I suggested that we

should ski the wide bowl just to the north of the forest, as the powder would be even deeper away from the shelter of the trees.

So off we went without much further discussion, taking

a high line along the top of the bowl. We dropped in at a tiny V-shaped couloir right at the apex, and enjoyed almost four

out into a wild environment. In relation to adventure sports, misleading; most of the time, you should actually be listening to your fears if you’re in a potentially dangerous environment

rather than trying to 'overcome' them. Most of the time, human beings feel fear for very good reasons. It’s worth remembering

that a neurological fear response to an actual physical threat

- goose bumps (electrodermal activity), a raised heart rate, and increased breathing - is a completely different thing to ‘overcoming the fear of failure’.

It's also worth asking to what extent the fast brain / slow

hundred metres of descent in some of the deepest powder

brain theory formulated by the Nobel prize winning psychologist

we noticed through the swirling cloud that there were several

within our decision making processes. In his groundbreaking

either of us had ever skied. On reaching the base of the bowl, big cracks in the surface layer of snow on both sides of the

upper slopes. Because of the topography of the mountain, any avalanche triggered high up would wipe out the whole

bowl. We were in an extremely dangerous position. My friend, 10

and economist Daniel Kahneman has on the fear response and 2011 book Thinking, Fast and Slow, Kahneman shows that the

human brain has two distinct (and sometimes conflicting) modes

of thought. ‘System 1’ is fast, based on instinct and emotion,

whereas ‘System 2’ is slower, based around logic, problem solving,

and deliberation. Going back to my skiing story, it was System

psychic space early humans would have entered during hunting

very important; it was this slower, more analytical system that

but the ways we can mitigate and respond to it are broadly the

1 that got us out of the bowl quickly, but System 2 was also

informed us of how serious the avalanche risk was, and how exposed we were.

expeditions. The source of the danger itself may be different, same as those our distant ancestors would have used.

It isn't just in response to danger, either, that we might use

Over the years I’ve learnt that the deployment of both of

these ancient skills in the context of adventure. The practice

in dangerous places. Whilst I’ve pushed deep into the danger

clues in the environment - is another realm in which we can

Kahneman’s neurological systems can be vital for safe practice

zone numerous times, I’m proud to admit I’ve also backed off on quite a few occasions. The skill of knowing when to turn back is fundamental, I think, to survival on serious adventures.

I’ve backed off alpine climbs, for example, because I

thought the weather might soon change based on careful

observation of the clouds (System 2 in action). But I’ve also

backed off climbs because I suddenly felt nervous about the quality of the rock (System 1 providing instant feedback); and

I’ve turned back whilst paddling on the ocean because the wind shifted forty-five degrees from cross-shore to offshore (System

2 analysis suggesting a potentially dangerous situation). The most important thing of all, I think, is to realise that turning

back out there doesn’t mean failure. In fact, it means quite the opposite: it means living to fight another day.

Returning for a moment to the Palaeolithic hunter with

whom we began, I think it’s pretty clear that early humans

of natural navigation - finding your way using signs and channel a kind of intelligence in the outdoors that goes back

many thousands of years. Successfully navigating through

wilderness terrain, or at sea, without using modern technology is an enormously rewarding and interesting process; I cannot

recommend Tristan Gooley's work on this subject more highly. In his 2016 book How To Read Water, Gooley quotes the

master Polynesian navigator [the Polynesians are arguably the world's best natural navigators] Chad Kãlepa Baybayan to help

explain why natural navigation might be a worthwhile activity: 'What it does is sharpen the human mind, intellect, and ability

to decipher codes in the environment. For me, it's the most euphoric feeling I've ever had'.

An intriguing question arises from all this concerning

motivation: do we practise adventure sports in order to reconnect, perhaps in a subconscious way, with our distant past as huntergatherers? Perhaps we do. So the next time you’re out there in

would have used Kahneman’s System 1 and System 2 thought

the wild and about to make an important decision, keep that

They would have needed System 2 to plan and execute the

most ancient instincts and skills to bear in a modern context, we

systems when tracking and hunting dangerous wild animals. hunt, and they would have needed System 1 if something went

wrong and they had to make a quick escape from danger; they would have also used System 1 in the heat of the kill.

There is a real sense in which the psychology of modern

adventure sports is not that different, in many ways, from the

imaginary Palaeolithic hunter in your mind. By bringing our might re-interpret them, and discover the oldest foundations of our intelligence anew.

And on that note, enjoy this action-packed winter issue

of BASE.

David Pickford

The rewards of modern exploration: sunrise at 5700m on the upper icefields of Mentok II (6250m) in eastern Ladakh, Indian Himalaya. DAVID PICKFORD

OPENING SHOT Photograph | Lukasz Warzecha

At over 3800m, this huge serac [an ice cliff ] sits just below

seracs were never really meant to be climbed due to their

avalanches triggered by falling seracs. Leading into this shoot

were as good as they were ever likely to get: it was cold and

the summit of Mont Blanc du Tacul in an area renowned for

with British mountain guide Dougal Tavener, we were carefully

monitoring the size of the crevasse behind the serac, to work

out if it was in danger of collapsing. Ice climbing is inherently

dangerous, but in the wider scope of ice climbing as a whole,

extreme instability. On the day of the shoot, the conditions

settled. Even then, Dougal found the ice a little soft and mushy, especially for placing protection, and the climbing was steep

and technical. As a photographer, I knew that this was a oncein-a-lifetime opportunity.

BA S E N O T ES

Nirmal ‘Nims’ Purja breaks speed record

on the world’s fourteen 8000+ metre mountains

In 2013, in a feat which spanned seven years and ten months,

Kim Chang-ho from South Korea set the record for climbing all of the world’s 8000+ metre mountains in the shortest time. On October 29th 2019, as Purja reached the summit

Russ Mantle (82) started cycling in 1951, clocking up an average of 14,700 miles a year to reach the million-mile mark in 2019

of Shishapangma (8027m) in Nepal, the clock stopped on his own attempt. He’d beaten the existing record by more

than seven years, reaching all 14 summits in just 189 days.

elite skiers, and to Olympic status in 1998 and beyond. And

the same season Purja claimed six more mountaineering

Today, Burton is one of the most iconic snowboard brands, but

In a series of expeditions dubbed ‘Project Possible’, during records, including the most 8000m peaks in spring, the most

in summer, the speed record of the world’s three highest mountains, and the record for the highest five. During his feat,

Purja also took part in several dramatic rescues. On 23rd April as he descended Annapurna (8091m), Purja led a successful rescue to find fellow climber Dr Chin Wui Kin, who had

we’ve got Jake Burton Carpenter to thank for much of that. getting there hasn’t been easy. For many years, resorts rejected

the snowboard, claiming they were too dangerous. Described by Shaun White, snowboarding’s most decorated athlete, as ‘the cool dad of the sport’, Carpenter lost his battle with testicular cancer aged 65.

been separated from an accompanying expedition and left

Alex Honnold and Tommy Caldwell climb

to the summit of Kanchenjunga (8586m), Purja and his team

Two decades ago Leo Houlding was pioneering a new route on

without food, water or oxygen. On 15th May, having made it rescued another two climbers from 8400m, sacrificing their own supplementary oxygen to the climbers in need. Russ Mantle rides a million miles

In November 2019, 82 year-old Mantle became the first British cyclist to ride 1 million miles: equivalent to travelling

new free route on El Capitan, Yosemite

El Capitan which he named the Passage to Freedom. Getting stuck halfway, he bolted an Alfa Romeo badge to the wall as a hold to pass a section he believed was otherwise impossible to climb. Now, over 18 years later, Alex Honnold and Tommy Caldwell found their way around the badge and completed the climb.

to the moon and back twice. But what does a million miles

Mike Horn and Børge Ousland traverse

in 1951, recording each mile he rode with a cyclometer and

Arguably no other polar explorers have achieved more than

look like in reality? Mantle started cycling seriously back

pen and paper before updating to a GPS unit in the mid 90s. He clocked up an average of 14,700 miles a year. ‘The miles have just naturally piled up, because I enjoy cycling so much’

says Mantle. ‘I was doing my biggest mileages a long way past when I was at my peak. So even when I was in my 60s and 70s, I was doing my highest mileages per year.’ Now in his 80s, Mantle has slowed down a little, but he’s still committed to cycling 25 miles every other day.

Jake Burton Carpenter (1954 - 2019) - the Godfather of Snowboarding

the Arctic Ocean via the North Pole

Børge Ousland and Mike Horn. Amongst their achievements,

they have both completed solo expeditions to both poles, and in 2006 they completed the first journey to the North Pole together

in winter, without dogs or motorised transport. In 2019, as

part of Mike Horn’s Pole2Pole expedition, the two teamed up once again for a self-supported traverse of the Arctic Ocean. Setting off on 23rd September from Nome, Alaska, they spent

87 days alone on the ice, most of which were in total darkness. Temperatures fluctuated during their journey from -40 º C to

+2º C, meaning conditions on the ice were constantly changing,

making the journey particularly challenging. With negative

from the modest evolution of the 1960s ‘snurfer’ – more

snow drift taking them back where they came from, they were forced to ski three times back into 85ºN, and twice into 86ºN.

anti-establishment antidote for winter sports dominated by

arrived at their pickup before returning to Svalbard.

The development of snowboarding has been fast and electric, a novelty snow toy rather than a functional vehicle – to an

On 7th December, having consumed all their food rations, they

FACING PAGE: The 850m monolith of El Capitan stands in the heart of Yosemite Valley, California. The wall is the world centrepiece of big wall climbing, and the scene of Tommy Caldwell and Alex Honnold’s 2019 new route based on Leo Houlding’s Passage to Freedom. DAVID PICKFORD

HYPERBOREA Off-piste sk i i ng i n A rct i c N or way Photography | Hamish Frost

THIS PAGE: Fabian Linge taking some big air off a small rock outcrop with the awe-inspiring Lofoten Islands skyline in the background. Skiing from summit-to-sea is a frequent possibility in Arctic Norway.

yperborea was a mythical realm of giants who the ancient Greeks believed lived ‘beyond the north wind’. The mountains of Arctic Norway are perhaps the real-world version. Between November and May,

skiing here offers a superb combination of stunning scenery, wild mountainous terrain, steep summit-to-sea descents, and the potential for sightings of the Northern Lights after a long day’s touring. The most popular areas include the Lyngen Alps (just east of Tromsø) and the Lofoten Islands (just west of Narvik), in part due

to their relative accessibility. However, there are mountain ranges of equal stature outside these areas for those

who would prefer to venture further off the beaten track. Whatever the precise nature of your trip, experiencing Arctic Norway should be on the bucket list for every competent off-piste skier.

THIS PAGE: Al Todd and Niall McPherson fighting the elements on the final bootpack up to the col on Trolldalen, Lofoten. FACING PAGE: A pair of skiers bootpacking up the final slopes of Hellskarnuten in the Lofoten Islands in the evening light.

THIS PAGE: Al Todd on the summit ridge of Stornappstinden (740m) during an ‘all four seasons and the kitchen sink’ kind of day. The weather ended up clearing in time for a decent ski down the south face of the mountain. FACING PAGE UPPER: Al Todd beginning the 900m descent down the south face of Himmeltindan on the stunning island of Vestvågøya in the heart of the Lofoten Islands. FACING PAGE LOWER: The view south to the Norwegian mainland from the Lofoten Islands.

Hyperborea was a mythical realm of giants who the ancient Greeks believed lived â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;beyond the north windâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;

FACING PAGE: Niall McPherson skiing the famous Trollsadelen South Gully in icy conditions, with views out over the sea fjords 900m below. THIS PAGE UPPER: The Northern Lights above the peak of Trolldalen. The Aurora Borealis is an added attraction to the magnificent skiing to be found in Arctic Norway. THIS PAGE LOWER: A local Norwegian skier calmly transports her dog to safety down the slopes of Kistbergtinden after good conditions quickly gave way to stormy weather and ferocious winds; rapid changes in the weather is a common characteristic of the Norwegian mountains, with their close proximity to the sea.

THE LOST TRAILS OF ZAGROS M o untain bike expl ora t i on i n I ra qi Ku rd i st a n Story | Aaron Gulley

Photography | Dan Milner

THIS PAGE: In a twist of irony, Dennis Beare (pictured) and the team discovered some of the best trails of their 8 day trip around Narwanda village, close to the Iran-Iraq border, despite many of the trails being surrounded by old legacy minefields from the Iran-Iraq war in the early 1980s.

On a crisp spring night on the flanks of Bradost Peak, six tents sway in the breeze in the heart of the Zagros Mountains of northern Iraq.

Synonymous with war since the U.S. invasion in 2003, Iraq might seem an ill-advised camping spot for a group of adventuring Westerners. Mosul, one of the final strongholds of the Islamic State, is down the road, and Kirkuk, a Kurdish separatist hotbed that sees regular air strikes and suicide attacks, is just a bit farther. But if our logistics expert’s hunch is right, many miles of world class single-track is also close at hand.

e’re here to explore the mountain biking potential

We snake our way three hours northeast from Erbil on buttery

of Iraqi Kurdistan, a semi-autonomous swathe of

asphalt over two passes to the town of Choman, the jumping off

politically apart from the rest of that troubled nation. The Kurds

Iranian border. The country’s second highest peak is incorporated

northern Iraq that remains geographically, culturally and are a stateless people - the world’s largest ethnic group without

their own nation state - pressed into the margins of Iran, Syria, Turkey and this northernmost corner of Iraq, a mountain sanctuary of soaring peaks and wild rivers more reminiscent

point for Halgurd mountain that’s just a couple of miles from the into Iraqi Kurdistan’s first national park, Halgurd-Sakran, but the

only infrastructure we note is the 12-room Halgurd Resort at the base of the mountain, where we’re the only patrons.

The plan is to drive as high as we can on the peak, then pedal

of Alaska than the fiery, flat oil fields the name Iraq conjures.

in search of rideable footpaths. When spring snowbanks lick over

Kurdish military force that sided with the Americans against

Rasool, our local guide, fires up a stove to brew tea. A liaison

The law here is enforced by the Peshmerga, an independent

Saddam Hussein in the chaos that followed his downfall, and

now patrols a fortified border that insulates their homeland from the rest of Iraq. As a result, Iraqi Kurdistan is an oasis

of relative stability. ‘No Westerner has been kidnapped or

killed in Iraqi Kurdistan since 2003’ our logistics expert, Tom, assured us in his pre-trip briefing. ‘The only risks are asymmetric bombing attacks, which are infrequent and aimed

almost exclusively at government targets, and air strikes on

separatist operations, but they’re in known areas that we avoid.’ It’s perfectly safe, he says.

Optimism is Tom’s stock in trade. Having served two tours

in Afghanistan as an officer in the British Parachute Regiment,

the dirt track at 7500 feet, we pull over. While we gear up, Rekan

for the U.S. Consulate in Erbil, Rasool, who’s as stocky and flamboyant as a Lucha Libre wrestler, moonlights as an adventure guide. He also heads up an outdoor group for Kurds, Rock Ur

Bones, which counts more than 8,000 members. He’s slowly building an outfitting business, with a fleet of 29er mountain

bikes and enough camping gear to take expeditions up Halgurd;

he talks of adding kayaks, climbing gear, and even a houseboat.

He sees the mountains as Kurdistan’s greatest untapped resource.

‘Everyone thinks only of oil or war when they think of Iraq. But they’d change their minds if they could see this’, he says, gesturing at the wild mountains before us.

But vestiges of the past are everywhere. Anti-personnel

Tom has pedalled in Afghanistan’s Wakhan Corridor, the

landmines dating back to the 1980s Iran-Iraq War freckle the

(DPRK), and carried his mountain bike to the highest peak

mostly know the safe spots; a rudimentary, rusted-out map with

mountains of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea

in Ethiopia for a 6000-foot descent. He insists his trips aren’t

about courting risk, but rather understanding the world. ‘Travelling to places that we as a society fear makes you realise that people are the same everywhere. It’s the best way to break down preconceptions’ he says.

That brings us to Kurdistan. The region’s relative security

has nurtured a minor tourist boom, with the number of visitors

border mountains, making exploration tricky at best. Locals red no-go zones and skull-and-crossbones symbols sits on the

verge of the road. But the ordnance is constantly shifting with rain and snowmelt. Last year, Rasool found a mine 100 yards from where we’re parked. He shows me a piece of shrapnel that

lodged in the side of his Kia SUV when local men disarmed the device by detonating it from a distance with rifles.

When our mugs are empty, our group pedals up the road. But

swelling 47 percent last year to more than three million. Most

between deep banks of snow and the triangular, brown steel mine

across the border from Iran, although a fledgling adventure

the two-track. At our high point, we have a front-seat view of

come from the southern and central provinces of Iraq and tourism sector now caters to intrepid Westerners.

Kurdistan in May is as lush as the mountains of North

America during spring run-off; the sweeps of grassy meadows and snow-white summits seem dissonant with the sandy, kiln-

hot vision of Iraq seen in media reports. Another surprise is the

relative affluence. Kurdistan holds approximately 30 percent of

Iraq’s oil reserves, and that wealth clearly benefits the region. The airport in Erbil, the capital, is all polished steel and bright-

white tiles; the city skyline is an Erector Set of cranes, and wide, well-paved highways lace a countryside dotted with freshly painted stone houses.

markers that pock the hillsides, no one is keen to venture beyond

Iraq’s tallest peak, Cheekha Dar (3611m). The mountain straddles

the Iranian border, with fortifications lining its flanks and an Iranian observation post perched on its summit. All this renders

the peak off-limits to climbers, which is why Tom brings his Secret

Compass climbing clients to nearby Halgurd, just 13 feet lower. The militarised border also explains why we’re having so much trouble finding trail. Saddam Hussein’s engineers built a network of roads in the 1980s to bring heavy artillery to the region’s highest

summits and remotest valleys. When the war ended, people stuck to the roads, which were un-mined, and vegetation reclaimed the footpaths that would have made fine single-track.

FACING PAGE: Naively none of the team expected northern Iraq to be so green. Surprisingly beautiful as it was, the tall spring grass obscured paths and made exploring trails, such as this one following the Rawanduz river, more difficult. Here Eric Porter seizes on an open section of canyon trail above a river churning brown with snow melt.

On the flanks of Halgurd, we find a threemile descent that rides like an alpine-slide covered in buckshot

Still, despite tantalising potential, the mountain biking

here isn’t making anyone’s world trails bucket-list. Almost every

path we find is too steep to pedal up, often grassier than a Swiss meadow, and coursing with bowling ball-size rocks. The terrain is monumental and endless, but the access and difficulty make it too intimidating for most. As we explore the northwest flank of Safin

Mountain, a leafy cut up a wall of blue limestone with a perilous One of the biggest surprises is the diversity of the riding.

We push and carry our bikes for miles up tablets of brown limestone in the Khalan Valley, only to find that the way down

drop-in, it becomes clear that Kurdistan has riding potential in the way the most remote peaks of the Himalaya hold climbing promise: it’s edge-of-the-map stuff, all about exploration.

After the descent from Safin, we roll into Shaqlawa, a

is slippery, picky, and technical; it’s almost as slow-going as

hill station of 25,000 people that draws Iraqi tourists with its

we splash down a 30-yard, lichen-slicked waterfall drop, then,

the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, which most people

the ascent. We camp in the emerald Asumarah Valley, where after sweating out several miles of bushy river trail, we rinse off in crystal-clear pools of snowmelt. On the flanks of Halgurd

itself, we even find a three-mile-long descent that rides like an alpine-slide covered in buckshot, all courtesy of some local kids with 125cc motos.

Mediterranean climate and scores of restaurants. It’s Ramadan, observe by fasting from dawn until dusk. After dark, which is

when we go out, the streets are swarming and cafés overflowing. Dinner is the usual Middle Eastern fare – chicken and lamb

kebabs, rice, soup, and flat bread – after which we fall into the procession of locals strolling the cobbled main street.

THIS PAGE: With remnants of a heavy winter snowpack preventing a full ascent of Iraq’s second highest mountain, Mount Halgurd, the team were left to explore trails on its flanks. Here Eric Porter and Dennis Beare call time on the push uphill and dive into a full 1000m descent back down to the valley floor. FACING PAGE: Exploring Kurdistan meant tracing the routes of old inter-village trails, many of which, like this one ridden by Eric Porter, follow ancient and spectacular gorges and canyons. By default, most of the team’s outings followed the same routine of push up - ride back down, but no-one was complaining.

UPPER LEFT: This meadow camp proved to be one of the most peaceful nights anyone had ever enjoyed, once the buzz of mosquitoes had subsided. UPPER RIGHT: Team bikes sit in a homestay outbuilding. Accommodation on the trip ranged from gold-trimmed hotels to homestays and mountain camps. LOWER: Taking a break at a secluded waterfall: Kurdistan proved to be a never-ending succession of unexpected wonder, beauty and calm. FACING PAGE: Kurdistan has plenty of oil money, but youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll also find plenty of make-do attitude once you leave the towns behind. Here, Eric Porter trusts a little Kurdish bridge-building resourcefulness to cross a creek.

Men with Elvis Presley bouffant haircuts (the vogue in

the country) and pointy brogues bubble hookahs on open-air patios, while families crowd into shoe shops and mobile phone

stores. More women wear jeans than headscarves, and children

drag their parents to the ice cream shops on almost every corner. It’s like a PG-rated version of the Atlantic City boardwalk, complete with American muscle cars cruising laps, including

The chasm opens into a broad valley winding north beneath a fortress of rock: this was the riding we’d been seeking: strenuous and in a silent, wild setting

one particularly tricked out black Chevy Camaro. Sometimes, even on riding trips, it’s not always about the riding.

On our next to last day in Kurdistan, we explore Sar Murid

Canyon, the easternmost stop on the trip, less than 10 miles

complaining. Once complete, the road will transform the trip

out concrete bunkers, slabs of limestone adorn the grassy

than an hour. He doesn’t know why the road is being built, but

from the Iranian border. From where we park amidst smashed-

hillside like half-tumbled dominos, and stone armaments on the cliff walls testify to centuries of civilisation.

We climb the canyon following a mirror-clear, spring-fed

to town from a three-hour circumnavigation to a jaunt of less he’s heard rumor of a mine. Rasool’s eyes smoulder with rage. ‘If war doesn’t destroy this country, corruption will’, he says.

The road and the mine would scuttle his blueprint for a

creek. The chasm narrows suddenly then opens into a broad

wilderness lodge, but Rasool seems more anguished over the

riding we’ve been seeking: strenuous but manageable, and in

on the limestone slab roof of one of his huts, his head in his hands.

valley that winds north beneath a fortress of rock. This is the

a silent, wild setting. For a moment, it’s tempting to imagine adventure tourism booming in Kurdistan. As we climb, Rasool

tells us that he recently bought a pair of old stone buildings in

destruction of the canyon than the personal setback. He slumps

‘Kurdistan has so much potential’, he tells me, ‘but also so many

challenges. I don’t know which will win, but sometimes I’m afraid.’ It’s a poignant note on the whole trip, which has swung

the village ahead, with plans to turn them into a backcountry

between astonishing beauty and generosity and the brutal

freshly tarred road. Rasool is speechless. When he’d been here a

troubled regions. The mountains here beckon, but in reality

lodge. But after 45 minutes of climbing, the trail ends at a month before, there was no road - and no plans for one.

We continue on the new road to the village of Sar Murid,

realities of living in the shadows of one of the world’s most very few outsiders are likely to come at the present time.

We turn our bikes back toward the truck and rip down the

a half dozen squat stone structures and walls inhabited by an

valley, skipping off stacks of boulders, pushing through corners

farmer with a Kalashnikov on his shoulder, comes out to talk

creek water that glisten gold in the gathering evening light. This

extended family. One of the younger sons, a 20-something

with us. He says that his family didn’t know about the road until the machines arrived and began cutting it, though he’s not

until our tyres rip off the dirt, and throwing up wakes of icy is, no doubt, the first ever mountain bike descent of Sar Murid. It also feels like it might be the last.

DEEP WAY DOWN A diverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s jo urney into the bea u t y a nd myst er y of t he u nd er wa t er wor l d Story & Photography | Will Appleyard

Will Appleyard has spent over 1000 hours underwater. He has explored shipwrecks, plane wrecks, flooded cave systems, and descended precipitous reef walls. Some of his most memorable adventures into the deep, though, were also the most unexpected... Amongst blue giants

The lust for rust

known that several shark species visit British waters, including the

are a keen explorer of shipwrecks. It is depth that determines

Temperate seas are incredibly rich with marine life. It’s not widely

globally distributed blue shark. To find these creatures requires patience, sea legs, and a large bucket full of fish guts.

The dawn fog begins to lift as we motor out to a patch

of water 16 miles offshore from Penzance, Cornwall. Local fishermen have spotted blue sharks here recently, and we kill

the engine on arrival. The sea is calm and quiet, except for

the sound of our own boat’s hull on the surface. Occasionally,

a container ship slides past on the horizon; I trust the skipper

that our small vessel is not actually within the shipping lane

In diving terminology, to have ‘a lust for rust’ means that you the challenge of wreck exploration. The deeper the wreck, the

more consideration we need to give to our equipment choices. And the complexity of the wreck’s penetrable parts requires

some pre-dive planning. Getting lost inside a deeply submerged wreck is obviously not an option. The temperature of the water also has a bearing on how challenging a wreck dive is likely to

be. We have to work harder when it’s cold in any environment above or below the surface.

The wreck of the US Liberty ship [a class of cargo vessel built

itself. Two buoys are set on a rope with bait positioned at two

by the United States during WWII] the James Eagan Layne,

set at ten. At the surface, the skipper introduces a slick of oily

one of the most accessible and exciting wreck explorations on

different depths - one at five metres deep and the other one

innards to the current, seeping from a net bag dangled over the

side. If they pick up the scent, the sharks will be attracted to our chum slick from - literally - miles away. Once lured in, we then

hope to draw them to the ten metre baited buoy, and finally to the bait set at five metres. If they appear and hang around, we

will enter the water; but of course nothing is guaranteed when attempting to photograph wildlife.

It’s now two hours since our arrival. We’re still surrounded

by nothing but sea and sky, the baited buoys remain

undisturbed in the water, and there’s not a breath of wind. Our sitting positions on deck morph into lying positions and conversation dries up. I reluctantly begin to consider that we may have to write this one off.

Bang on the two-hour mark, the deep buoy rapidly

disappears and reappears; and then, somewhat more tentatively, so does the shallower one. Finally, the indigo hue of a blue

shark’s back and dorsal fin meet the surface, followed by others.

which lies just off the coast of Plymouth in Devon, is probably the UK’s south coast. She sits upright on the seabed in 23 metres

of water – moderately shallow in SCUBA diving terms, but

with the added consideration of cold water diving to factor in. Good visibility is never guaranteed here, yet when we descend

on her one August weekend, it is exceptionally good. Good

visibility makes for comfortable diving and reduces our overhead

environment risk when we venture inside her cavernous hull. We can see our escape route options, which are crucial should we need to end the dive. Good visibility also means that we can

maintain visual contact on one another as we explore the holds of this watery wartime museum. Whether in polar, temperate

or tropical waters, over time a shipwreck becomes consumed by

the living sea around it, and is eventually transformed into an artificial reef. Fish find shelter here, soft and hard corals begin to

occupy the metal remains, and all kinds of marine critters crawl into every available recess.

For the diver, a shipwreck is an exciting place to be at night as

We ready ourselves to slip in with them, reasonably gear-free

well as during the day. The conger eel - with its mad, otherworldly

A nibble from one of these epipelagic creatures is unlikely,

at night it becomes an active hunter about the wreck. Fish seek

with just our masks, snorkels, fins, weights and wetsuits.

but still we cover our skin completely with neoprene to prevent

an investigation of that nature. Five individuals appear beside the boat in all, and the skipper advises us to keep our eyes on

the sharks at all times while in the water. In reality, they are the ones keeping an eye on us. The water clarity is good, and shafts of sunlight dive into the sea like outstretched fingers as

I breathe heavily through my snorkel.

Horizontal on the surface with perhaps 100 metres of

water below me, I track two sharks while they trace figure-

glare - waits for a feeding opportunity to pass during the day, but sanctuary within a ship’s holds, and on this dive we scan a silver shoal of pouting with our torches within the structure. Wreckage

has spewed onto the seabed beside the wreck, and it takes no effort to imagine the chaos that occurred aboard this vessel of war after German U-boat U-399 fired a torpedo into her starboard

side on March 21st, 1945. Remarkably, though, there were no casualties amongst her crew of 69. Once it’s time to surface, we exit the wreck through the ship’s blast-damaged side.

of-eights between one another and then fin away into the gloom out of sight. The pair then reappear exactly where

I didn’t expect them to be. Close encounters become physical

ones, with their noses bumping my camera; their big, deep-

ocean goggle eyes appear to almost meet mine at my mask. Our time in the water is always limited, regardless of depth,

and we witness just a snapshot of these extraordinary animals’ lives and behaviour. This is their territory, of course; we are clumsy, privileged visitors. 34

PREVIOUS PAGES: Divers explore the wreck of the cargo ship dubbed ‘Naranjito’ off the south-eastern tip of Spain. The ship’s final cargo consisted of many thousands of oranges (hence its nickname) which violently shifted in a storm, causing the boat to list and take on water. FACING PAGE UPPER: A diver is approached by a graceful wall of tuna. FACING PAGE LOWER: A large and curious blue shark - one of several shark species to visit British waters - investigates the side of a dive boat circa 16 miles off the south Cornish coast.

The blue sharkâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s nose bumps my camera and the deep-ocean goggle eyes appear to meet mine at my mask

We find Mayan pottery remains in one chamber of a Mexican cenote, abandoned when the cave was dry over 1000 years ago

We leave the surface as a group, descending hand over

hand, as we feel our way down a buoyed rope that guides us to the submarine wreck 34 metres below. The top three metres of water are nothing more than a thick green soup. By now, I have

already made up my mind that if the visibility is this bad when we reach the wreck, then I am heading straight back to the surface. As if falling from a sky of green cloud, the soup layer

No shipwreck is an eternal time capsule, though; the James

Eagan Layne will not remain on the sea floor off Whitsand Bay

forever. The sea’s salinity, over time, reduces all these relics to

unrecognisable heaps of metal. The Baltic Sea, however, with its

low salinity [the Baltic has a salinity of just 3.5%] does to a point ‘freeze’ wrecks in time. In 2019, I joined a team of Scandinavian

divers in Estonia; our aim was to descend on some of the best preserved shipwrecks anywhere in the world.

gives way to clear, darker water and the wreck of the Akula is immediately visible below. Remarkably, it is also completely

intact. One by one, the dive team begins to appear again. From

a distance the submarine still looks operational, with the entire

craft from bow to stern visible and upright on the seabed. Venturing closer, we find the sea-mine damage that sank her in November 1915 with the loss of all 35 men on board. The wreck was only discovered in 2012, and divers rarely visit.

Operating a cumbersome camera is challenging in these

It is a grey start to our day as we cast off from the Estonian

conditions, but my diving partner can visualise a shot and

from is a deep grey, matching the colour of the sky and the

perspective. We fin along the sub’s port side and find several

island of Hiiumaa. The ex-Navy landing craft we’re diving sea. It will take us two hours to reach our target – the wreck

of the WW1 Russian submarine, the Akula. More often than not, it is possible to simply peer over the side of a dive boat

to determine how good the visibility underwater is going

to be. Divers obsess about underwater visibility as much as

paragliders do over the height of cloud base, or skiers over snow quality. Yet the Baltic Sea is different, and does not give up its secrets that easily. 36

positions herself by the propeller, giving the mechanism some

anti-naval mines on the seabed beside the submarine. Giving

them plenty of space, we move on and back to the bow where

we began this dream-like dive into maritime history. We wear

drysuits, together with thick Arctic undersuits when diving in the Baltic Sea, but at this depth it is still cold. The fingers are the first to complain, and the cold slowly penetrates our warm

layers and begins to chill our cores. It’s time to leave the Akula in its resting place, and slowly head for the surface.

Deeper into history

With friends in the cave diving community, I decided

Navigating submarine wrecks is easy due to their narrow shape,

that I needed a taste of this mystery myself. I arrive in

Navigating a cave underwater, however, requires a little more

what it takes. The first pioneers of climbing routes name

and much less disorientating than the remains of a large ship. planning; it’s quite possibly the most challenging thing a diver can do as far underwater exploration is concerned.

The word cenote derives from the Mayan word D’zonot,

meaning ‘deep and abysmal’. Cenotes, often circular lake-like

areas or sometimes simply holes in the ground, are formed when a cave’s ceiling has collapsed. In Mexico’s Yucatan peninsula, jungle cave systems often lead off from the cenote

Tulum, Mexico, in the winter of 2018 to find out if I have their creations, and cave divers do the same. We tour cenotes

named Dos Ojos, Car Wash, El Pit and Dream Gate - to name just a few. In recent years Dos Ojos has been joined

up by explorers to the Sac Actun system, making it the longest known underwater cave system in the world at an extraordinary 347km long.

Each cenote has a very different geological look and

itself. The network is created over millions of years through

‘El Pit’ is exactly what it says on the sign - a pit. It has a

acidic rainfall. Eventually, these caves are flooded with water,

have 30 metres of crystal clear water below us as we climb into

the gradual dissolving of highly porous limestone by slightly and create perfect cave diving country.

Cave divers are a completely different breed to the rest

of the SCUBA fraternity. To use an analogy, in some ways

cave divers are to the diving world what free soloists are to the climbing world. Both disciplines require serious mental

strength, meticulous planning, and of course next-level skills. The individuals who practice these disciplines, in both cases, are born with a deep desire to explore the uncharted.

relatively small entrance, half-hidden in the jungle floor, and we the water. From the deep, the entrances to several flooded cave

systems disappear to who knows where. At these cave entrances, signs have been placed with the simple message: ‘STOP unless

cave trained’. Sound advice, of course. We explore some of the less complex cavern routes that suit my skill level. These are laid

out with fixed lines, so we can find our way out once our air consumption dictates it’s time to leave.

FACING PAGE: Aside from the geographical wonders of the Mexican Cenotes, ancient Mayan pottery can still be found within these flooded caves. THIS PAGE: A diver gives perspective to the propeller of the WW1 Russian submarine wreck, the Akula, lying in 34 metres of water in the Estonian Baltic Sea.

We find Mayan pottery remains in one chamber,

The diving even in entry-level flooded caves can be testing,

presumably abandoned there when the cave was once dry, well

and to be a great cave diving photographer, you need to be a great

the gigantic geological formations that appear everywhere are

Taking a camera underwater in any event requires a certain

over a thousand years ago. Beyond this astonishing discovery,

cave diver first.

a good enough reason to explore these flooded caverns. Our

level of diving proficiency. I’ve learnt that it’s essential to

walls beyond us. I find I enjoy the mental test that this kind of

staying safe within your chosen environment. At the same

torch beams throw startling, moving shadows against the rock dark, overhead-environment diving brings with it. It’s quite a

noisy experience too, as our exhaled air bubbles rumble against

the limestone ceiling above. At times, the effect makes it sound like the cave itself is collapsing - a chilling thought to quickly banish from the mind.

I leave the Yucatan peninsula with a new appetite for

this kind of diving, and a fresh admiration for cave diving

photographers; I’ve learnt that shooting in these locations is

seriously challenging due to the lack of light and confined spaces.

master full manual camera controls in order to improve, while time, understanding animal behaviour can make or break your shooting day, and choosing when to enter the water for the

optimal light can do the same. I always dive with a camera, whether exploring a purposely-placed plane wreck in a cold

quarry, the diverse dive sites of Spain, or the shipwrecks of the Caribbean. Yet despite the desire to capture the experience

photographically, as with any kind of exploration that begs to be documented, it is important to remember it all with your own eyes too.

THIS PAGE: An oceanic manta ray dwarfs a diver as it glides over a known manta ray ‘cleaning station’ in Indonesia’s Banda Sea. Most large marine animals know where to find a particular species of fish that will remove parasites from their skin. FACING PAGE UPPER: The menacing form of a conger eel pokes its snout from a hole in the wreck of the James Eagan Layne off the coast of Plymouth in south Devon. FACING PAGE CENTRE: A diver inside a plane wreck in a flooded quarry. Quarry diving is an ideal way to train for more technically complex dives, including wreck dives. FACING PAGE LOWER: The author about to submerge onto a shipwreck at twilight.

BEYOND THE AMPHIDROME An adventurerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s g u i d e t o t i d es a nd cu r rent s Story & Infographics | William Thompson

Thousands of miles from the amphidromic points in the Atlantic ocean from which our tides originate, Britain’s coasts experience some of the

most powerful tidal currents on Earth. But what must we know about tides and maritime currents before adventuring on the sea? Surfer, author & tidal expert William Thompson provides some crucial insights into one of the planet’s most powerful natural forces.

ne autumn afternoon a long time ago, I realised I was powerless against the sea. I was sitting on the beach in Tynemouth with saltwater pouring from my nose, watching the breakers I’d been trying to paddle through. Because the beach there is shallow, waves break a long way out. For every one wave you get through, the next is even bigger. Every time I made headway I would be smashed back, mostly underwater and upside down hence the saltwater streaming from my nose. Finally, with dead arms and burning lungs, I surrendered to the sea and slid off my surfboard, expecting deep water. But to my surprise, it was only waist deep; the swell had churned up the murky sea, hiding its depth. In shame and disappointment, I stumbled back to shore and collapsed on the cold sand. At that moment of ultimate failure, it was clear that my reliance on pure physical power would not work in such an environment. I needed a new tactic. The swell disappeared for a few weeks, and when it came back I was ready. I had been studying wave dynamics, and I’d developed a new strategy. Instead of relying purely on my fitness to power through the walls of white water, I would walk out as far as possible, then stand there waiting for a window of opportunity. And when that gap appeared, I would suddenly paddle out as fast as possible, hopefully getting beyond the surf zone before the next set of big waves arrived. To my astonishment, it worked. This strategy of waiting for your moment and then seizing it is defined in Sun Tzu’s Art of War: ‘The good fighters first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then wait for an opportunity of defeating the enemy.’ Applying this to adventures at sea, the first step is to prepare your mind, body and equipment. Then, you must wait for that opportunity. And then, when it arrives, commit to it totally. Riding the rip The trick here is to be able to predict and recognise when the sea is about to help you, and for this you need to understand its cycles. One of the most fundamental, in relation to beaches, is that water surges towards a beach with the waves, then flows along the shore, and finally heads back out to sea either along an obstruction or through a deeper channel. In Tynemouth, where I developed my ‘Art of War’ strategy, the main rip runs along an old tidal pool. I discovered that if I got in the sea there, the rip would take me straight out beyond the waves; a far more effective technique than waiting for a gap in the sets. I would then catch a wave to the shore, walk along the beach and jump back in for the next ride. To break the grip of the rip all you need to do is paddle across the narrow current and head towards the waves - a lifesaving piece of advice for anyone who gets caught in a rip current. The tragedy of many rip-related deaths is that they could have easily been avoided with a simple piece of knowledge: never swim against the current. Those who try to fight the sea become exhausted, panic, and drown.

My three winters surfing in the North Sea taught me a valuable lesson; you can never overpower the sea, but you can harness its power. When I moved back home to Deal in Kent, I applied this strategy to tides and their currents. As a child, my parents were always terrified the currents opposite our house would drag us across to France, so they insisted if we went kayaking that our boat must be connected to a rope that one of them would hold from the beach. They were right about the strength of currents, but not their direction; on most open coasts, tidal currents simply flow along the shore. Fascinatingly, they go both ways, changing direction at set times before and after high tide. These times are unique to every beach, but in Deal the currents start flowing north around two hours before high tide, speeding up for three hours, then slowing down for three hours. They are slowest around 4 ½ hours after high tide, a time called ‘slack water’, and this is when they change direction, following the same cycle of speeding up and slowing down until two hours before the next high tide. This cycle gave me an idea. If I got into the water three hours before high tide, the current would take me south for about an hour, then turn around and bring me back to where I started. I could essentially travel miles along the coast without expending any energy at all. Trading a lobster pot I found on the beach for an old windsurf board hanging from the roof of Dave the Sea Dog’s fisherman’s hut, I now had a paddle board to test my concept. It was a little wobbly, so I built a plywood drop keel and strapped a basket to the deck with a tube in one corner to hold a fishing rod. With my partner Naomi sitting on the back and in charge of the rod, I steered us along the coast. The tactic worked – we drifted a mile down to Kingsdown and then the current brought us back to where we started, and with four mackerel in the basket. (It remains our most successful fishing trip to date). On one of our drifting expeditions, the local SUP salesman paddled over and tried to sell us a new board. It was two days after the full moon: a period called ‘spring tides’ when the combined gravitational pull from the sun and moon creates currents 25% faster than usual. By the time he lost interest, we had drifted a fair way along the beach. Naomi and I were heading in the right direction, but he had a long paddle back to his car against the three-knot current. In the end, he gave up and I watched him walk back along the beach, struggling barefoot on the pebbles with the heavy board awkwardly slung under his arm. As we raced away on our battered lump of fibreglass, I grinned at Naomi: ‘all the gear, no idea’. Although we soon upgraded our paddle board, that encounter taught me that knowledge of the sea will give you a far greater advantage than the latest gear or physical fitness. If you have all three, you’ll be unstoppable.

PREVIOUS PAGES: The wild tide race off Morte Point at the western extremity of North Devon’s Exmoor Coast in a Force 8 gale, with the 4 knot ebb current running at full tilt. In local Devonian lore, Morte Point is ‘the place that God made last and the Devil will take first’, due to the numerous shipwrecks and fishing boat accidents that have occurred on the point. Unusually, there in no ‘inshore passage’ [an area of calmer water immediately offshore] off Morte Point, and the tide race breaks directly on the rocks. This is not a place to be in the wrong conditions, or without knowing which way the tide is flowing. DAVID PICKFORD

An understanding of the sea will give you a far greater advantage than the latest gear or physical fitness. If you have all three, youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll be unstoppable

Understanding amphidromic systems At that time, around five years ago, I knew that currents were connected to tides, and that they were both affected by the position of the moon. But beyond knowing that tides are generated, in simple terms, by the gravitational effect of the moon on the surface of the oceans, I didn’t fully understand where tidal currents themselves originated. So with our water spaniel Alfie and baby daughter Ottilie, we set off on a van trip around Britain to find out. What I learnt was that tides are made by huge (but invisible) waves flowing along the coast; when a peak passes we get high tide and six hours later the trough brings low tide. Generally, these waves travel in circles around sea areas - or even entire ocean basins - with the peaks passing the same point roughly every 12 hours 50 minutes. If you study the tide times on the east coast of Britain, you can track the journey of a peak of the tide wave. On the full moon, it is at the north tip of Scotland around midnight, passing Teignmouth in South Devon around 04:30, and arriving at Margate in Kent around midday. If you divide this distance by the time it takes to get from Scotland to Margate, you’ll see that the peak of the tide wave is travelling at a speed of circa 100km/h. And this is a ‘slow’ wave – the oceanic version in the North Atlantic races from Africa to Europe and across to the US at circa 1000km/h.

The important thing to bear in mind here is that it is the energy of the tide wave travelling at this speed, not the water particles themselves. A useful analogy is to imagine how water rapidly recedes from a beach when a tsunami is approaching. What is happening is that you are experiencing the trough of the wave, and all the water particles are being sucked towards the peak, which is travelling towards you at 800km/h and will arrive around five minutes after the sea retreats. When it does arrive, the water particles surge forward with the wave, heading up to 3km inland and potentially more than 5 metres above the normal sea level, as happened in the Boxing Day tsunami in the Indian Ocean in 2004. Now, turn that wave around so that it is running along the shore, and you have the relationship between tide waves and currents. At low tide, when the trough is passing, water is being sucked towards the peak. Then when the peak arrives six hours later, it pushes the water particles along with it.

Understanding this theory helps explain what makes water in the sea move, especially when you travel to new places. For example, because the tide wave travels south down Britain’s east coast, on an open beach there you would expect currents to flow south at high tide. Then, around 3-4 hours after high tide, you would anticipate them to slow down and start flowing north for around six hours.

Although this is only a rough guide, it helps build a picture of what to expect when you study the charts. And being aware of this cycle gives you three main windows of opportunity when planning an adventure.

Firstly, you can do a return trip, as Naomi and I did on our battered old windsurf board off the Kent coast. Or you can set off just after slack water and ‘go with the flow’ for up to six hours with the current. Finally, if you want to stay in one place, timing your adventure around slack water will make life easy; this is also often the only safe time to dive shipwrecks. The antithesis to this strategy - and one I would never advise - is to dive in and hope for the best. Last summer, I encountered a perfect demonstration of this approach when I spotted a middleaged man swimming near the end of Deal Pier, 200m out in the English Channel. ‘Lovely day for a swim’, I called down. ‘It’s fabulous! And what’s amazing is that there’s no current today at all’, he replied, taking a rest from his breast-stroke. It was actually spring tides, the time of the strongest currents, but by chance he’d dived in at slack water. Three hours later, the currents would be raging like a fast-flowing river, creating little whirlpools around the pier legs. I wondered what would have happened if they had turned when he was off the end of the pier, sweeping him away

from safety. Perhaps he would have simply swum back to shore and landed further along the beach. Or he might have tried to swim against the current, desperately trying to get to the steps at the end of the pier. But that would have been futile; the relentless

stream would have forced him away, cold and exhausted, hundreds of metres out to sea. The next step is often panic; a catalyst to drowning. Whatever the result, the probability of failure for this approach is far higher than success.

When a local endurance athlete asked if I could plan the first ever swim to the Goodwin Sands [a set of islands in the middle of the English Channel] I worked hard to employ the strategy of using the power of the tide to your advantage. People told us the challenge was impossible, including a cross-channel swimmer. And she would have been right if we had simply tried to swim for the Sands and hope for the best. But instead, I studied the charts and found a one-hour window of opportunity when the tides and currents made it possible, and we achieved our goal. Through proper tidal planning, success was made possible. It taught me that making use of the tidal cycles isn’t about eradicating any sense of danger. Rather, it’s about bypassing the problems of the ‘happy-go-lucky’ approach. By doing so, we can open up a whole new realm of possible adventures at sea.

KEMPSTON HARDWICK The secret diary of B ed ford shi re’s g rea t est a d vent u rer Story | Kempston Hardwick

Illustration | Dan Milner

Kempston Hardwick is a keen-as-mustard-adventurer and dad, in that order. Old enough to remember when car interiors smelt of petrol, Hardwick defies his rapidly amassing years by seeking outdoor recreation, and the mind-expanding escape from domesticity it offers at every

opportunity. His irrepressible readiness to embrace al-fresco challenges has delivered him with worldly-wise opinions that he applies to every turn in life, whether bagging Munros or browsing the organic frozen pizza aisle of Waitrose. He sports a curiosity-of-self that’s akin to most adventurers, something that is largely attributed to Tipi-dwelling holidays on Anglesey with his carefree parents. It is believed he was named after the place where he was conceived, a disused railway station somewhere in Bedfordshire. He is good friends with Dan Milner.

Part 3: On Trend

couple of weeks ago, with a big mountain bike ride into

So I love the fact that every life experience, every tiny hint

the great outdoors looming, I decided to work on my

of adventure’s rewards, is deserving of the most magnificent

that if I replaced the term ‘work on’ with ‘dial-in’ then it all

incredibly amazing that hyperbole has never before found a

bike. It was a task that I wasn’t relishing. That is, until I realised

sounded a whole lot more attractive. As in I’ll ‘dial-in’ my ride. I even verbalised it, out loud, so Kate could both hear me and

be impressed with my taking back control. Kaboom! Suddenly

the irksome prospect of a tedious hour wielding a set of Allenkeys instantly became an ‘Exciting Opportunity to Hone my Cockpit Set-up’.

And so I dived in, unleashing a whirlwind of enthusiasm

fuelled by the kind of doublespeak that would make Orwell proud. It was deep. Heck I even missed Line of Duty while

Freeing Up some Real Estate on my Handlebars. Okay, I’m not sure why adjusting my brake lever positions is Freeing Up Real

and creative word re-purposing. Our adventurous lives are so

more deserving home in which to gestate. When I contemplate the immersive experiences offered by the protagonist that

is the big outdoors, I know the payback is worth scaling a paywall of pain for. And I also know that payback is a million

times better if it has been enveloped in a literal, re-focussed curation of our efforts. Know what I mean? C’mon, I know

you do. We’re on the same page, right? We’re cohabiting this

moment. Together. We love jargon. Jargon is powerful. Jargon

slingshots the trivial into the upper echelons of emotional connectivity. Doesn’t it?

Sometimes I even call my friends ‘operatives’ when I reach

Estate, or why I’d want more ‘Real Estate’ on my handlebars, but

out to them to share a ramble or a paddle. It just seems to

knows about this stuff. And it seemed catchy and appropriate

and a more earnest engagement. And engagement is good, isn’t

I’d just read the term in a bike magazine, written by someone who

and, well… it made the job more purposeful. More empowering. And I love that.

I really love the way our world of adventure is so positively

emphatic. Truly. Life is good and adventures are even good-er, especially when empowered by jargon. If you’re like me, you live

and breathe adventure. And as today’s adventurers we are lucky people; surely there is no other demographic whose self-focussed acts of reward-seeking are so encouraged and emboldened by creative terminology. Unlike our predecessors who squinted

nervously through blizzards or puffed with uncertainty over

demanding peaks in the hope of a mere sniff of adventure, we, the people, now literally own our adventures. 48

fit and gives our jaunt redefined purpose, or at least a deeper it? And now my fellow adventure operatives and I roll out the

jargon together, ring-fencing a buoyant raft of cool-speak and deploying it in our quest to summit our individual endorphin peaks. It all seems so symbiotic. When we’re wild-swimming

in the River Avon or bartering for prayer flags in Pokhara we’re not just adventuring, but are exploring the very fabric of our emotional drives. Okay we’re all out there doing our own thing, pushing our own individual envelopes individually

(but with space to grow) but simultaneously we’re all on the same page, brokering the same visceral experiences during our

outdoor moments of magic-me-time - or memory gestation productivity (MGP) as I like to call it.

When we’re wild swimming in the River Avon we’re not just adventuring, we’re exploring the very fabric of our emotional drives. We’re brokering the same visceral experiences - or memory gestation productivity (MGP) as I like to call it And going forward, our embrace of jargon can surely only

So appreciatively armed with this quiver of up-speak, finally

lead to bolder, bigger and better things, to deeper immersion

I feel have harnessed an authentic proprietary connection with

physicality of the objects that delineate our outdoor experiences.

guy who would really like me to like their stuff. And buy it.

and most importantly more rewarding connects with the pure

When I snuggle down inside my sleeping bag during a chilly

night under the stars, I’m validating the silky Pertex-lined bag’s non-negotiables. When I sing the praises of trousers with zip-

off legs, I am rejoicing in my appreciation of its deliverables. And when I snap photos of our mountain bike endeavour, I’m not taking photos, I’m harnessing assets. I’m cultivating likes.

my gear’s brand manager - you know, that faceless but likeable

We might not have met, but through shared creative lingo, we have found an engaged purpose. I no longer just ‘use’ my

gear, or Physical-Form-Assets (PFA) as I now call it. Instead, I ‘experience’ it. Of course I do.

My PFA and my experience are, in fact, the same thing.

Yes, we adventurers are lucky people. We are fruitfully

I think product designers would feel immense pride to

harvesting our outdoor quality time by endlessly crushing it

bag we have inadvertently embraced the very foundations of their

together, we are unified in rolling out and validating a carpet of

know that as we extol the virtues of their headtorch or duffel brand’s ecosystem. It’s as if that designer - oh heck, the whole damn company - is an omnipotent forest spirit shepherding me through my open space optimisation with a fluidity of good

out there, whatever it is, and whatever crushing means. Today, user-honed experiences as we march, paddle and ride into fresh life-territories.

And we continue to hone those user experiences armed

intentions. Adventure is in their DNA (they tell us that) and I

with not great, but bomber gear. It’s like we’re one big family.

happy, contented viruses in a two-star ski chalet’s tepid jacuzzi.

is out there for Freeing Up.

love that; now we can cosily wallow in a brand’s DNA like those

Smiles are our USP. Adventure is on trend, and Real Estate

T H E BA S E I N T ERV I EW Ma rie-Fra nce Roy t a l k s t o Ha nna h B a i ley

Marie-France Roy grew up in Quebec, Canada, and since she was 11 years-old snowboarding has been a major part of her life. A love

for snowboarding influenced her move to Whistler, British Columbia, and she has been living the life of a professional snowboarder for over a decade. Known for being one of the most stylish and versatile riders in international snowboarding, Roy is also recognised for her humble character and concern for wider issues beyond snowboarding itself, such as environmental activism. When not up a mountain snowboarding, she is firmly down to earth, living in the eco-friendly house which she built herself on Vancouver Island. So, what have been the highlights of the past year?

Was there any tension between your career as a professional

going on a beautiful trip to Chilean Patagonia, and we hosted

Snowboarding entirely changed my life. It didn’t take too long,

So many, really. Touring with The Radicals, a movie I feature in, the third Annual West Coast Triple Plank here on Vancouver Island [a snow-skate-surf event]. Through the event we managed

to raise $13,000 for salmon stream restoration. And some great powder days and splitboard adventures at home in British Columbia. I feel very lucky to live the life I lead.

Have you always been engaged with environmental issues?

snowboarder and your interest in environmental issues?

though, before I started to feel conflicted about my initial aspirations to work in the environmental field. I felt like I

couldn’t possibly claim I cared about the environment whilst my carbon footprint as a snowboarder was only getting bigger and

bigger from travelling all over the place, and from promoting consumerism through my sponsorship deals.

Although some people have much bigger carbon footprints

I have always felt a strong connection to nature since I was a

than others, it’s unrealistic to ask everyone to stop travelling

a lot and going on camping trips with my family. I think that

Anyone who lives in a developed country and claims to be an

kid. I grew up in the countryside in Quebec, playing outside

by spending so much time outside when I was young, I became

aware of human impact on the environment at a very young age. It felt apparent to me, even as a kid, that we were destroying a lot of natural habitats at an alarming rate.

How did you get into professional snowboarding?

I was studying Applied Ecology, and completing my final

internship at the Vancouver Aquarium. Since I loved

snowboarding so much and was already out west, I decided to go spend one season in Whistler working in restaurants to

be able to snowboard and experience real West Coast powder before getting a real job in my field. I entered a few contests

and doing what they love for the sake of the environment. ‘environmentalist’ is hypocritical to some degree. The West, China, and India are all huge consumers of fossil fuels. So instead

of wasting our time and energy pointing the finger at who is more guilty than others, we need to come together and work on

finding solutions before it is too late. This is what inspired me to

produce The Little Things movie in 2014, and I have been trying my best to use snowboarding as a messenger for environmental

activism ever since. You should fight to protect something you love. If snowboarding can help people fall in love with nature

and stand up to protect it, that is a small but important victory to me.

that winter, and did well, and soon got offered sponsorship that

To you personally, how obvious is human impact

I have been snowboarding for a living ever since. It was amazing

If someone pays the slightest attention to their surroundings

helped me get to bigger contests, and helped pay for travel. to suddenly live a dream that I had never expected to come

true. It’s great to be able to do something you love, constantly

pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone, and to achieve goals you never thought you could reach.

on the environment on a local and global scale?

- whether a skier, snowboarder, or any adventure sports enthusiast - you can see the impact everywhere. I personally don’t need a scientist to prove to me that we are having a massive

impact on the environment, it is obvious all over the globe.

FACING PAGE: Marie-France Roy at home on Vancouver Island, Canada. JUSSI GRZNAR / RED BULL

If I can help people fall in love with nature and stand up to protect it, that is a small but important victory

FACING PAGE: Marie-France carving a fast turn high above Whistler, Canada. CHAD CHOMLACK / RED BULL THIS PAGE: Marie-France emerges from the trees at Smithers, Hudson Bay Mountain, Vancouver. SCOTT SERFAS / RED BULL

But the science has been essential to prove it on paper and to give us predictions on what types of consequences

we are heading towards worldwide and how it will affect us. It is already happening, and it will unfortunately only

get exponentially worse if we don’t immediately commit to some drastic changes towards a more sustainable future. These next few years and decades are really are going to be crucial in determining what our future will look like.

Climate change and environmental destruction is arguably the most important issue that humanity is facing today.

It affects everything and everyone on the planet. To say that I am worried for the future of snowboarding and the

snowsports industry is an understatement. If we keep going at this rate, there will be much bigger issues to worry about than not being able to snowboard, which is why I think it is important to do something now. What steps do you take personally to reduce your carbon footprint?

There are so many steps everyone can take and the answer will be different for everyone. I’ve tried many different

things, and I’m learning and trying to do what I can. I built my small cob home out of as many natural or recycled

materials as possible, I organise events such as The Triple Plank to raise environmental awareness and funds. I am

on the board for Protect Our Winters Canada, for which I do speaking events. I put solar panels on my house, I produce compost. I even sometimes take my friends and local businesses compost. I buy carbon offsets for my flights but also for my whole yearly carbon footprint (including power, food, car, heating, etc).

I also try to reduce the amount of travelling I do. I got rid of my snowmobile and truck, and committed to

do more foot-powered splitboarding. I make sure my funds are invested in ethical companies, and I volunteer for beach clean-ups. I am starting to make my own cooking gas at home from food waste. I still sometimes forget to turn the lights off, and I don’t have an electric car yet. I still get on snowmobiles and helicopters to do my job, and

if my dad - who I see about once a year - grills a steak for me, I will eat it! But I am proud of the several changes

I have been able to make. It’s not about being perfect, it’s about being conscious and reducing our carbon footprint in whatever small ways we can.

What should the snowsports industry do to try to address environmental issues?

I think the gears are turning in the right direction. If you’re an outdoor industry professional - an athlete, guide, or part of the industry itself - you should be on the frontline even more; our livelihoods depend directly on an industry that

relies on stable climate, good air quality, protecting our public lands for recreation, and so on. To be honest, I think it is unacceptable for any company involved in the outdoor industry not to attempt to offset its own carbon consumption.

What are the main ways in which the snowsports industry can improve its environmental standards?

I tell everyone in the industry to look at their current situation: what are you passionate about, or what issue concerns

you the most? What skills and resources do you have? I am a bit jealous of climbers, as they don’t require as many gas guzzling tools (as skiers and snowboarders often do) to access the mountains. But one of the main reasons I speak up is to change that. Electric helicopters are now in development, and I will be testing new electric snowmobiles made

in Canada this winter. However, electric vehicles have a great deal of captured carbon from their manufacturing

processes, particularly the batteries, and they will only be truly ‘zero-emission’ vehicles when the electricity they are powered by comes entirely from renewable energy. That’s another important thing to consider. But humans are very smart. We can do anything we really want to: technological solutions to the environmental problems caused by industrialisation are surely possible, if there’s enough collective desire to change.

Why is the move towards producing outdoor clothing with recycled materials important?

We live with the illusion that waste magically disappears. Recycling still isn’t as efficient as it could be. Waste material is a gold mine, and needs to be used as a resource. To make products from waste stops that waste going into landfills, and reduces the need to extract new resources. This should be prioritised as the norm whenever possible

across all industries. Many argue that green initiatives are too expensive, and obviously the economics of the green revolution are very complex. Yet such initiatives will greatly increase our quality of life in the future, in my view. What’s up next for you?

I have some Protect Our Winters school presentations coming up in Quebec soon. I’m excited for an upcoming surf road trip from British Columbia to Baja, Mexico this fall, and I am looking forward to another winter here in

BC. There will be splitboarding adventures, some video projects, gear testing, events, and working with Protect Our Winters. Lots of good stuff !

FACING PAGE: Marie-France hits the point of zero gravity mid-flight in the Whistler backcountry. TONY HARRINGTON / RED BULL FOLLOWING PAGE: Marie-France diving in the Pacific Ocean near her home on the west coast of Vancouver Island. JUSSI GRZNAR / RED BULL

I personally donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t need a scientist to prove to me that we are having a massive impact on the environment

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BAC K TO BA S E Th e dange r zo n e | Tom Li v i ng st one Photography | Tom livingstone

et’s get straight to the point: climbing is dangerous.

Competent alpine climbing must also be about mitigating

Full-blown alpinism in the Greater Ranges, meanwhile,

the risks. We don’t climb under seracs [ice cliffs]. We wait for

rock and ice, constantly tearing themselves apart, subject to

the odds aren’t stacked in our favour, but there are plenty of

is a dance through chaos. Mountains are inanimate spires of natural forces of unimaginable power. Some eyes may see lines

of beauty: ribbons of ice and golden granite. Others may see fear: commitment and casting far away from safety. I’m drawn to alpine climbing by a strange cocktail of both beauty and fear.

Risk is inherent from the moment you step off the ground,

but when clipping bolts at the local sport crag, you limit the number of dangerous variables. Bolts make climbing relatively safe. It’s okay to fall, and warm clothing and coffee keep the

atmosphere suitably relaxed. When alpine climbing, you quickly

realise you hold no control over the high mountain environment. Rocks fall, storms break, and seracs collapse. The consequences

settled weather. Perhaps, if we go into the mountains enough, old climbers who’ve struck the right balance and are still going strong. Through experience, we develop good judgement. Can

you abseil off one piece of gear? (Probably not, unless it’s a tree, and they don’t grow above 5200m). Can you trust ice that goes

thunk when you hit it? What sound does the wind make when

it rips over a ridge in a Patagonian storm? With this judgement, we know which risks are uncontrollable, like a storm rolling

in. Then we can accept and reduce the likelihood of the risks; check regular weather updates, take proper clothing, and know how - and when - to bail.

I’m partly drawn to climbing because of the risk. I wouldn’t

when something goes wrong can be far more serious than when

be so interested if I fell off and simply floated to the ground.

Hindu Raj range, where I climbed last summer, are a very long

attracted to this internal dialogue, which often takes place as

you’re close to civilisation. Remote regions such as Pakistan’s way from a hospital.

Considering the major risks and their potentially very serious

consequences, why look to the mountains at all? It’s a matter of perspective. One person’s gripping, disco-legging, fingers-

Alpinism forces me to meet my fears head on. I know I’m I climb another move higher above my gear. What would an MRI brain scan show? Is this when I’m most alive? Or at my most foolish?

There’s also an argument that something like alpinism

clawing pitch is another’s scramble. The thought of isolation

is the perfect antidote to our ‘cotton wool’ society, where

nervous. Personally, I quite like being ‘away from it all.’ Attitude

safe activities in life. I skip the odd clip at the indoor wall; the

during an expedition might make some people tense and

is important, and it shapes our perspective. Do you explore the edges of the map, or do you stay safe at home? Do you fear the consequences of what might be, or revel in the possibilities?

everything must be easier and safer. There are already plenty of quickdraws are often so close together, you could essentially

top-rope the whole route. So live a little, and embrace the fear; you’ll be surprised where it takes you.

FACING PAGE: The author looking down the vast northwest face of Koyo Zom (6877m) in Pakistan’s Hindu Raj range, during the first ascent of the new route he climbed on the peak with Ally Swinton in September 2019. There has been virtually no mountaineering exploration in this region for the last 40 years due to political instability.

The consequences when something goes wrong when alpine climbing can be very serious indeed

Interestingly, despite climbing in remote mountains around

In a sudden, unlucky instant, Ally broke through a

the world for many years, I still don’t talk openly about the

snow bridge and fell 15 or 20 metres into a large crevasse.

approach. I know the risks and consequences. I consider,

us whizzing through my gloved hands. Unable to touch the

danger involved. I’m not arrogant; I just try to take a clinical

mitigate, and act. Is this normal? Have years of gently pushing

the limits, given me a different perspective? Or am I simply ‘used to it’?

If our ability to deal with risk is simply related to our

exposure to it, could we eventually solo Yosemite’s El Capitan, like Alex Honnold, given the technical ability? I’d encourage

research on other climbers, racing drivers, and BASE jumpers. All high-level athletes are obsessed. But the difference with alpine climbing is the high-stakes nature of the game. An

He suddenly vanished into the dark, icy slot, the rope between

walls, he spun slowly in mid-air. When I pulled him out, I was

as shocked as he was. Blood from a head injury ran down his face, and he limped from a badly bruised leg. I tried to think through the adrenaline, our single bandage giving only an

illusion of first aid. We were days from a hospital, and, at 5900m,

close to the altitude limit of the Pakistani rescue helicopters. Ally needed medical help relatively quickly: I pressed the SOS button on our Garmin InReach Mini.

On the first day, the helicopters couldn’t reach us. Ally’s

Olympic sprinter doesn’t pay the ultimate price if they come

condition deteriorated as the temperatures dropped at dusk,

I was recently forced, though, to revise my attitude to risk.

head - are very tough. After a long night spent keeping him

half a second late across the line.

In September 2019, after travelling for nearly a week, four

friends and I set up Base Camp in the Hindu Raj, in the far northern section of Pakistan’s Karakoram mountains. This

and I feared the worst. Thankfully, though, Ally’s mind - and warm in our double sleeping bag, we were rescued the following afternoon. It was our eighth day in the mountains.

I now know the extent of the consequences of pressing the

remote and poor region, which borders Afghanistan, hadn’t

SOS button on our Garmin. We set in motion international

making the first ascent of a new alpine route on the north west

between the UK Foreign Office and Pakistani Consulates.

been climbed in for forty years due to political instability. After

face of Koyo Zom (6877m), Ally Swinton and I walked back down the Pechus glacier, hungry for Base Camp. We’d been alone in the mountains for seven days.

processes, from insurance companies to rescue services, and

Whilst Ally and I shivered and shared our final energy gels, our friends were constantly on the phone, coordinating a rescue that was much more complex than we realised.

THIS PAGE: The author and his teammates heading towards the huge and intimidating northwest face of Koyo Zom (6877m) in the northern Pakistan Hindu Raj. FACING PAGE: Ally Swinton recovering after breaking a snow bridge and falling 15-20 metres into a large crevasse.

Our experience gave me an insight into this hidden world.

Speaking with staff at the British Consulate in Pakistan afterwards, I realised we were slightly naive towards our situation, and didn’t

fully appreciate the amount of work involved to facilitate a rescue. We were lucky the helicopters flew at all; had the visibility been poor, which it often is at high altitudes, the rescue would have

been impossible. We were fortunate to be fully recovered. I also

In an unlucky instant, Ally suddenly vanished 20 metres down into the dark, icy slot, the rope whizzing through my gloved hands

now always wear a helmet when walking on a glacier, and am much more aware of what lies beneath the surface.

Ally and I felt like we were relatively in control - until

we weren’t - during our new route. We chose an objectively

‘safe’ line on Koyo Zom. We received regular weather updates.

‘If you take risk out of climbing, it’s not climbing any

We pushed the pitches higher whilst still remaining within our

more,’ said Yvon Chouinard, founder of Patagonia. He points

To understand more about risk in alpine climbing, I spoke

climbing. Some of my richest experiences have come from

comfort zones. But what happens when you’re unlucky?

to my Dad, Julian. We learnt to climb together ten years ago. He instilled strong ideas. ‘Wear your helmet; put lots of gear in; and don’t fall off,’ he’d say. I asked him about my big trips to the

Greater Ranges. ‘No news is good news when you’re climbing,’ he said. ‘And it’s better to hear about the route afterwards, when

we know you’re down safe.’ But he still goes into the hills, and

his motivations are similar to mine: ‘I’m just drawn to climbing

out just how intrinsic danger has been within the history of

perfectly-balanced moments of risk and reward. When I soloed

Left Wall, a classic route on Dinas Cromlech in North Wales, I knew I could climb it without falling; I was also completely

aware of my actions. When I shook out on a jug at half-height, only the fingers on my left hand and the inside edge of my right foot kept me on the rock.

I topped out and sat peacefully, stretching my toes in

by a love of the mountains. It’s simply incredible up there.’

the warm updraft funneling up the crag. The purple heather

During his ocean crossings in a friend’s 38-foot yacht, he feels

sunlight moved over Crib Goch. If I’d simply had another lap

It helps that Dad can relate to risk and commitment.

comfort in the strength of the boat, equipment and crew. ‘Even

during the longest storm, four whole days of Force 8, we knew

we’d probably be fine even if the mast snapped. I know the boat was built to withstand that kind of weather.’

in the Llanberis Pass twitched in the breeze, and flashes of

on the route, it would’ve been fun. But this was something different. I was buzzing with adrenaline, and the air was alive

with electricity. I felt a mile high, perched up there on the crag. This is the reason I climb.

BA S E G E A R Our sel ection o f l e a d i ng i nsu l a t ed ja c ket s for 2020

Arc’teryx Proton LT Hoody Canadian brand Arc’teryx has been a key innovator of technical

outdoor clothing for decades. Their new, revised version of the Proton LT Hoody could become another classic from the design

team in Vancouver. Using very lightweight synthetic insulation, which unlike down still works when it’s damp or even wet, the Proton LT is perfect for alpine climbing, skiing, or any other

outdoor activity where insulation must function in very humid

environments, or during high-output exercise. Being extremely

lightweight (just 375 grams) and highly packable, the Proton LT is a perfect go-to addition for the wardrobe of any serious adventurer. Both men’s and women’s versions are available. Key features: Quick-drying synthetic insulation Durable and breathable outer face fabric Helmet-compatible hood Designed for optimal movement Can be used as a mid-layer or a shell in warmer conditions ARCTERYX.COM

Patagonia Macro Puff Hoody Patagonia is a household name in high quality adventure wear. The Macro Puff synthetic insulated hoody is a classic of their range, with an impressive warmth-to-weight ratio in a highly packable form. With its huge hood and longer hem cut, it’s perfect as a belay

jacket for climbers, or an extra warm layer to keep stashed in your pack on multi-day adventures. The Macro Puff can genuinely claim to offer the warmth of a lightweight down jacket with the wetweather performance of synthetic insulation. Key features: Ultralight recycled nylon ripstop shell Water-repellent outer fabric High loft synthetic insulation Helmet-compatible hood Packs into a separate stuff-sack PATAGONIA.COM

Kathmandu Federate Down Hoody Using a striking box-wall construction and street-oriented

design, the Federate Down Hoody is ideal if you want a high

performance down jacket that works as well for commuting to

the office as it does out there in the wild. Using a very tough outer fabric with a water-repellent (DWR) coating, the Federate works much better than most other down jackets we’ve tested

in wet conditions, so if lightness and lots of technical features

are less important to you than urban looks, this might be an ideal addition to your winter wardrobe. Key features: Water-repellent 650 fill power duck down Water-repellent (DWR) finish Stretch woven baffle fabric Adjustable hood Two large zip pockets & inner pocket KATHMANDU.CO.UK

Rab Electron Jacket Rab’s Electron is an extremely warm mid-weight down jacket

that uses 800 fill power down along with a host of useful

features designed for technical users such as climbers, skiers, and outdoor professionals. Using a water-resistant Pertex shell, it’s designed to stay dry in all but the worst conditions, when

it could also be used as a mid-layer under a waterproof shell. The Electron has the lowest possible weight in relation to its insulating properties, and it’s undoubtedly the warmest of the

four jackets reviewed here. Whilst it doesn’t offer the same wetweather performance as the others, it is the perfect companion for cold, dry winter conditions. Both men’s and women’s versions are available. Key features: 800 fill power ethically-sourced European goose down Elasticated stretch woven cuffs Internal security pocket Helmet-compatible hood Water-resistant and lightweight Pertex outer RAB.EQUIPMENT

B EYO N D BA S E A n i ntroduction to ex peditio n med i c i ne Column | Dr Mark Willis

he beautiful thing about an expedition is that each adventure is as unique as every person on it. No two adventures are the same; even if they were to be

in exactly the same place, at the same time of year, and with the same people, they

would still be different. I think this is one of the qualities that make expeditions

and adventure travel so exciting. Being able to look after others as an expedition doctor is only possible, though, if I can look after myself. This often means I need a comprehensive medical kit to treat the full range of illnesses and injuries that may

occur. But this is easier said than done. If each expedition is unique, then so are the

potential medical issues you’re going to face. So how do you create a medical kit for a

trip in a remote region, cut off from all medical infrastructure and supplies, when you can’t be sure what’s going to happen? Here are a few key points to consider.

First, you should consider the length of your expedition. The duration of your trip

or time to a medical facility is going to dictate the quantity of each medical supply you’re going to need. Going to be a maximum of two days away from a re-supply

point? Then there’s no need to carry hundreds of tablets if you can only have a maximum eight in a day. The same goes for bandages and dressings.

Second, you should consider the number of expedition members. Try to spread

group medical supplies amongst the members to spread the weight. Also, always consider the group number when deciding on quantities of medical supplies.

Third, you should consider the experience of expedition members. Taking intravenous

drugs to help with emergency situations can have a significant benefit, but only if

you have one or more expedition members who are confident and competent to use

them. The same goes for bandages and splints - don’t carry them if you’re not going to

use them.

Third, it’s important to tune your medical kit to the requirements of the specific

expedition. One of the most useful ways to construct a medical bag is to think about

the environments you’ll be in. Extreme environments each have their own challenges, but if you pack the right kit, then you can make the adventure that bit more safe and enjoyable. There are certain items of kit that make it into my bag no matter what

scenario I’m about to face. Years of expeditions in a wide range of environments have

proved that the items listed on the following pages are always useful to have at hand.

THIS PAGE: Looking up towards Cerro Fitz Roy from the Piedras Negras advance basecamp, high in the El Chalten massif in Argentine Patagonia. Expeditions in high altitude regions and cold environments require specific medical items, as do expeditions in jungles and tropical regions. DAVID PICKFORD

MEDICAL KIT FOR ALL EXPEDITIONS Bandages & slings

Scissors

relief and can help aid the healing of an injured limb or joint.

for many things on an expedition and are invaluable.

A versatile bandage and sling is excellent at providing pain

The basic idea of both is to provide stability and immobility to

Cooking, shelter repairs, and first aid: good scissors can be used

encourage healing and prevent further trauma.

Tape

Dressings & plasters

use from repairing a tent, to putting the finishing touches to a

On an expedition, an infection of any kind can scupper your

chances of achieving your goal and leave the patient feeling

Like scissors, tough fabric tape is perfect for multipurpose bandage, or even taping feet to prevent blisters.

very unwell. A minor infection (particularly to the hand or

Diarrhoea relief

requiring evacuation. Make sure you cover any breaks in the

hours before summit night - trust me. Anti-diarrhoea tablets

foot) can quickly turn into a major emergency if it spreads, skin with a dressing after giving it a good clean. Blister plasters

There’s almost nothing worse than starting with diarrhoea in the such as immodium could be the difference between succeeding or staying at basecamp.

Ensuring you wash your feet every day will help prevent

Laxatives

over hot spots. Make sure your boots are properly broken in

one way or another. Constipation can leave you feeling bloated,

blisters forming, while blister plasters can be perfect for placing beforehand, to help prevent this happening in the first place.

Altitude and a change in diet can play havoc with your bowels

uncomfortable and can affect your sleep. Laxatives sort this out.

Women’s hygiene

Anti-sickness

menstrual cycle and menstrual bleeding can happen at any time.

altitude: nausea and vomiting can be debilitating. At best it is

Expedition-related stress can play havoc with a woman’s Make sure you have some products just in case, or consider speaking to your GP about short term hormonal contraceptives to delay your period until after the expedition. Antibiotics

Consider taking 1-2 courses of oral antibiotics with you on a

trip to cover common infections in the chest, skin, and stomach.

It might be something you’ve eaten or simply the effects of

uncomfortable, and at worse can leave you severely dehydrated. Dissolvable anti-sickness medications are an excellent remedy. SPF sunscreen

Surnburn can cause serious problems on an expedition. Ensure you have enough SPF 30+ (ideally SPF 50) to prevent UVB damage.

What you take will largely depend on the geographical location,

Electrolytes & rehydration sachets

may have; take medical advice before travelling.

water and a whole variety of salts and electrolytes. Therefore

and you should take into account any allergies you or the team

Painkillers

Multi-day expeditions are likely to take their toll on the feet

and joints, and it’s a good idea to have a variety of painkillers

When in hot environments or working hard we sweat out both it isn’t sufficient to replace this fluid by merely drinking water.

Electrolyte sachets can replace what’s lost from sweating,

vomiting or diarrhoea, keeping our salt and mineral levels stable.

to hand. Paracetamol is suitable for dull aches and pains, while

Water sterilisation tablets

anti-inflammatory properties: carrying all three is a good plan.

in a bad situation, potentially putting your expedition (and life)

codeine can be useful for more severe pain, and ibuprofen has

Sterile water

Cleaning a wound is only as good as the water you are cleaning

it with. Try to use fresh, running water, or carry some sachets of

If your drinking water isn’t clean, then you’re going to end up

at risk. Be sure to treat all water adequately, and take your water

from a fast running water source. Use water purification tablets, such as chlorine tablets.

sterile water with you. Sutures/steri-strips

Sutures or alternatively steri-strips are great for keeping those small wounds closed, allowing them to heal. Just make sure all cuts are thoroughly cleaned before using them.

FACING PAGE: A Russian Mil Mi-17 military helicopter approaching Mount Elbrus basecamp to collect an injured climber. The purpose of good expedition medicine is to ensure the expedition is safe and successful, and to avoid a situation where you require emergency evacuation. In many of the world’s wildest regions, helicopter rescue is not available at all, so you must be self-sufficient as a team in all your medical needs. DAVID PICKFORD

Good hygiene, physical fitness, preparation and teamwork means a trip can run smoothly without the medical bag ever being opened

KIT FOR HIGH ALTITUDE & COLD REGIONS

JUNGLE & TROPICAL ENVIRONMENTS

Oxygen

Mosquito repellent

there is less oxygen in a given area to breathe. Hypoxia (lack

insects away, limiting the amount of scratching and infectious

At altitude, the partial pressure of oxygen decreases, meaning

of oxygen) occurs at altitude and can cause fatigue, confusion

and drowsiness. Supplemental oxygen can temporarily improve these symptoms until you get to a lower altitude. Diamox (Acetazolamide)

This prescription medication makes our blood slightly more acidic. To compensate, we then subconsciously breathe a bit

quicker, and this increase in our respiration rate allows us to adapt to altitude faster and with fewer side effects; it’s a crucial

A DEET based repellent can keep those pesky mosquitoes and

diseases. Repellent, combined with being covered head-to-toe, is great at keeping all those bugs at bay. Malaria medication

Contracting malaria is not nice. On any expedition to a region

where malaria is present, don’t forget suitable medication: your

doctor can advise the best type to take depending on where you’re going.

item for any high altitude trip. Nifedipine

Another prescription medication, Nifedipine, is used to treat

FURTHER POINTS TO CONSIDER

allows breathing and oxygenation to be more effective, and gives

Prevention is always better than a cure on any expedition. Many

high altitude pulmonary oedema (fluid on the lungs). This critical time to descend safely to get full medical treatment. Dexamethasone

This type of steroid is used to treat High Altitude Cerebral Oedema (swelling of the brain). The symptoms occur on a

spectrum from a simple headache to coma and even death. If symptoms occur, the essential treatment is to descend to a lower altitude where the problem resolves.

Low-temperature oxygen saturation probe

Oxygen finger probes can give falsely low readings in cold and high altitude. A specialist low-temperature probe will provide

conditions in extreme environments can be prevented before

they occur through proper hygiene, risk analysis, and teamwork. Hand hygiene is key on all expeditions to maintain the health of

the group – use alcohol gel to clean your hands regularly. Some of the medications listed here are prescription-only, so speak to your GP or expedition provider beforehand. ‘Prevention is better

than cure’ is certainly the case when it comes to vaccinations. Many vaccinations need more than one visit to a clinic and can be up to 8 weeks apart, so make sure you leave plenty of time to

get the full course. You can find what vaccinations you need for a specific area at fitfortravel.nhs.uk/destinations

Think about what you want from your first aid kit and what

more accurate readings and will allow you to monitor sick

you’re comfortable using. There’s no point taking intravenous

(SpO2) to healthy individuals in the group.

kit in advance to ensure everything fits (and don’t forget about

climbers closely. You can always compare oxygen level readings

Thermal blanket or survival bag

Without taking into account the changing weather, temperature

drops approximately 6.5C for every 1000m of altitude gain. As soon as the sun sets, even in the desert, temperatures

drugs if no one is able to give them. Pre-pack your first aid expiration dates). Don’t let a preventable illness ruin your expedition. Good hygiene, physical fitness, preparation and

teamwork means a trip can run smoothly without the medical bag ever being opened.

plummet. In an emergency, a thermal foil blanket could keep you warm and save your life. A recent development of this

technology is the lightweight thermal survival bag, which is even more effective as it traps more heat than a blanket.

BA S E T E C H S ol e su r v i vors Story | Chris Hunt

Rubber is one of the go-to materials of our time. It’s in everything, from car tyres to clothing, cooking utensils to wetsuits, and even the

grip on your coat’s zipper. Rubber excels in its frictional properties, and one of the most useful applications of the material is in footwear.

In the early 19th Century, the Wellington boot became practical attire for the British aristocracy, and has since become an essential item for millions. Today, the use of rubber in footwear has gone far beyond the humble ‘welly’, and the material is used in the soles of virtually all of

our adventure footwear, from climbing shoes and ski boots to casual sandals. But where did it all begin? How did rubber come to dominate adventure footwear? And what’s the future of rubber soles as materials technology continues to evolve? A short history of rubber

The material’s first use in Europe was as an eraser, to rub

Think of rubber and you’ll probably first imagine the texture

out lead pencil marks on maps and charts. But the rubber

The name has become a representation for a whole bunch of

either degraded and disintegrated with heat, or went hard in

of the material. In many ways that’s the perfect place to start.

materials; some natural, some not so much. So what is it we’re really talking about when we say ‘rubber’? There are two camps

developed in this early stage was not truly cured, meaning it the cold. This made it unusable for much else.

It was soon clear that rubber’s real potential lay in

here: natural rubber extracted from plants, and synthetic rubbers

its waterproofing properties. By the 1820s, the English

Natural rubber is made from a milky-white liquid known

and Thomas Hancock had refined the ancient Olmec process

produced artificially in laboratory conditions.

as latex which oozes from particular plants when you cut into their bark. Common dandelions, for example, produce

latex. If you snap off their stems, you can see the white liquid dripping out - that’s latex. There are about another 200 plants in the world that produce it. That said, the vast majority of

inventors and manufacturing engineers Charles Macintosh by chipping rubber and dissolving it in benzene. Then, by introducing heat, they were able to produce large-scale

rubber sheets for the first time. From this process, the famous waterproof fabric known as Mackintosh was born.

In Massachusetts, Charles Goodyear had also been trying

the world’s natural rubber is produced by a tree species called

for years to unleash the full potential of rubber. Goodyear was

The rubber tree takes between seven and ten years to

of stabilising rubber using heat, since the poor thermal stability

Hevea brasiliensis, more widely known as the rubber tree.

deliver its first harvest, which is collected by making incisions

across the latex vessels in the trunk in a process known as rubber tapping. The liquid drips out and is collected in small buckets connected to the tree.

By boiling the sap from the rubber tree, Aztec, Olmec and

Maya people of Mesoamerica made what is believed to be the

first forms of natural rubber. By combining rubber tree sap with

a vine sap, they made a stretchy, waterproof material for clothing

asked by a local waterproof material manufacturer to find a way

of natural rubber was causing major development problems. The story goes that one day, by accident, Goodyear dropped

a sheet of fabric infused with rubber, sulphur and white lead onto a hot stove. Rather than melting, the fabric hardened

into a permanent flexible state. It was then far less affected by extremes of heat than it had been previously. This was the earliest form of the process now known as vulcanisation.

some 3000 years ago - arguably the world’s first ‘technical

fabric’. The introduction of rubber to Europe wasn’t until the 1750s, when European explorers returned from South America having seen rubber harvesting and development in practice.

FACING PAGE: The B3 crampon-compatible toe rand and insulated Vibram soles of a pair of Scarpa Phantom 6000 high altitude mountaineering boots. DAVID PICKFORD / BASE

Unfortunately for Goodyear, taking out the U.S. patent

on the process made him virtually bankrupt, so to maintain

the progression he sent samples to Macintosh and Hancock. On analysing the samples, Macintosh determined sulphur to

be the key to the process. Quickly improving on Goodyear’s

work he cracked the method, naming the process after

On the first ascent of K2 in 1954, the Italian Karakoram expedition led by Ardito Desio used Vibram rubber-soled mountaineering boots

Vulcan, the Roman god of fire. Whilst he saw no financial return in his lifetime, Goodyear’s discoveries weren’t in vain.

Today you’ll probably associate his name with car tyres, as

the Goodyear Tyre and Rubber Company is an automotive industry leader.

As the uses of rubber expanded and spread across industries

In 1954, the first successful ascent of K2, the world’s

second highest mountain, was made by the Italian Karakoram expedition using Vibram rubber on the soles of their boots.

Today, more than 80 years later, the ‘carramato’ sole

- particularly with the fast increasing popularity of bicycles with

is still iconic, but Vibram have moved well beyond their

natural rubber had increased to the point where many companies

shoes, technical mountaineering boots, and shoes designed

pneumatic tyres - demand soon met supply. By 1925, the price of were exploring methods of producing synthetic rubber.

In the U.S., the rubber pioneers focused on different

materials from those in Europe. They were building on the early laboratory work of Rev. Julius Nieuwland, a professor of

chemistry who developed the synthesis of polychloroprene (or neoprene as it’s widely known) made by mixing acetylene and hydrochloric acid.

Neoprene is still one of the most popular types of

original flagship design. Vibram now makes soles for cycling

to replicate the barefoot gait. Many of the leading brands in the outdoor industry use uniquely designed soles from Vibram using different make-ups of rubber, refined for the

specific requirements of the shoe and the activity in mind.

There are twenty-nine different sole composites to suit every specific need, from extreme temperatures to loose ground and wet rock.

The sport of rock climbing, with its high demand for

synthetic rubber, and you needn’t look any further than

friction from the climber’s foot, was revolutionised in the

a whole host of synthetic rubbers made in chemical plants

soled climbing shoes. The French alpinist and bouldering

wetsuits to see their use in adventure sports. But today there’s

using petrochemicals as their starting point. According to Ullmann’s Encyclopaedia of Industrial Chemistry, in 2011 about fifteen billion kilograms of rubber was produced annually; and of that amount, two-thirds was synthetic. Rubber in footwear

late 20th Century by the development of ‘sticky rubber’ pioneer Pierre Allain first realised the potential of a rock climbing-specific shoe soled with a high friction rubber

compound way back in the 1930s, and the ‘P.A.’ shoes he developed in the mid-20th Century became a legendary benchmark for all future climbing shoes.

In the late 1970s, Spanish brand Boreal pioneered a new

In 2009, the Financial Times published an article citing

rubber compound specifically for climbing that could be

rise, it seemed, would surpass the more commonly produced

and produced the final prototype of the legendary ‘Firé’ rock

the growth in the popularity of rubber soled footwear. This leather. But rubber soles are no new thing, particularly not in

the realms of technical outdoor footwear. And that is partly down to Vitale Bramani.

Born in Milan in 1900, Bramani was an Italian

entrepreneur, mountaineer, mountain guide and member of

the Italian Alpine Club. In 1935, Bramani blamed the deaths of six of his mountaineering friends in the Italian Alps on

inadequate footwear. The tragedy drove him to develop a new

climbing sole. Two years later, with the financial backing of

manufactured on an industrial scale. In 1979, Boreal designed

shoe - the world’s first mass-produced sticky rubber climbing

shoe. After testing by, among others, top American climber John Bachar, the frictional advantages of the new rubber soles

became clear. From then on, all the best rock climbers in the world used sticky rubber shoes; international rock climbing

standards soared in the 1980s, in part due to new sticky rubber rock shoes.

The sustainability of rubber

Leopoldo Pirelli (of Pirelli tyres) he launched the first

In an era where concerns around plastic pollution and the

‘carramato’ which roughly translates to ‘tank tread’.

industry are keen to minimise the impact of their products.

rubber lug soles on the market with a tread design called the

This was the conception of the brand Vibram - a

afterlife of products are high, some brands in the outdoor ‘Once you have an oil-based product on your feet it will

combination of Vitale Bramani’s first and second names. The

gently degrade and wear down, injecting micro-plastics into the

on the widest range of surfaces, and to have a high level of

footwear. One of the newest additions to this eco-conscious

sole he created was designed to provide exceptional traction

abrasion resistance. It was made using the latest vulcanised rubber of the time.

land, air and water’, says Ed Temperley, co-founder at WAES trend in the outdoor industry, WAES have just launched what they call ‘the world’s first 100% plastic free sneaker range’.

FACING PAGE: Insole moulds being manufactured in a stainless steel mould press.

Natural latex is sourced from the Hevea brasiliensis tree today with the same technique first used to harvest rubber in South America thousands of years ago

‘We’ve been working with some amazing scientists at

‘We’ll use anything which is 100% natural and we

The Fraunhofer Institute who have calculated that 109 grams

have some really exciting new natural materials we are

per year, in Germany. They claim it is the 7th largest source

organic cotton, conifer glue and natural latex. Keeping it

of micro-plastics are scuffed from the soles of every person,

of environmental micro-plastics and it’s not hard science to

believe as we all see our shoe soles wearing down’, Temperley continues. ‘When you think about that small section of your shoe sole which wears down, what does that matter?

Unfortunately, when you extrapolate it across the global population, it turns out it does matter.’ Rubber as a zero-waste material

working with, but for now it’s organic-tanned leather, hemp, simple is actually incredibly hard work in a world which is

reliant on cheap plastics to knock out even cheaper goods’, Temperley explains.

‘But the result is beautiful and stylish sneakers made from

robust but ultimately compostable materials that look great, but don’t hang around for hundreds of years after they’ve served their useful life.’

As the old capitalist rules in the fashion industry face

WAES have a vision of ‘a world of zero-waste footwear’

questions, it seems that for a portion of the industry we’ve

footwear. So if they are to avoid the use of synthetic materials,

their rubber soles is sourced from the Hevea brasiliensis

as they strive to make naturally-sourced, biodegradable

plastic-based glues and rubbers, what are the alternatives? And how do they work? 74

come full circle. The natural latex used by WAES to create

tree using variations on the same techniques used in South America thousands of years ago.

‘It takes the daily production of 20 trees to make a single

‘It takes a year or so for them to break down, and we’d

pair of sole units’, Ed tells me. ‘Then, after the rubber is

advise chopping them up as you would with any organic

jelly in a water bath. In a final step, this jelly cake is cooked in

can send the shoes back to us for a credit note, and we’ll look

extracted, it’s poured into a mould to set like an oversized an oven for a week which drives out the moisture and leaves behind a microscopic network of tunnels which give the shoes

a luxurious bounce. Fast fashion would have a heart attack,

materials. We will also be offering a returns service so people after the ‘end of life’ process. The last thing we want is one of our shoes in landfill’.

Whilst WAES is currently taking the lead in zero-waste

I think.’

footwear, the broader trend of developing outdoor products

produce a pair of WAES shoes. By making products which,

project. The biggest outdoor brands are beginning to take

From start to finish it can take more than two weeks to

at the end of their functional life, can be directly composted along with your household organic waste, they’ve turned the standard process of disposable fashion on its head.

using environmentally-friendly technologies is an ongoing

up and continue this work, as they explore the engineering of minimum-waste fabrics, garments, and low-carbon supply chains.

FACING PAGE: Rubber being ‘tapped’ the traditional way by cutting the bark of the rubber tree, allowing the rubber sap to drain into a receptacle. THIS PAGE: The Vibram ‘XS Grip2’ rubber soles and toe rands of the high performance Scarpa Chimera rock shoe. DAVID PICKFORD / BASE

B A S E C U LT U R E L i g ht ni ng i n t he d a r k Artwork | Tessa Lyons Poetry | Ben Silvestre

Waiting Another day of thunder, thunder;

wonderful. Wooden slats of

broken sofas choke,

strained fingers stretch.

There’s creaking in the eaves, in the wind and the leaves. And eyes full of hope, sentences of belief, we, arm in arm

by the skin of our knuckles grinding our teeth in a fist fight fairy tale. Still though there’s

gringo sing songs in the evening, another egg breakfast,

dancing in the moonlight. We don’t even need

to speak about our dreams. There’s gold in these hills.

Entering the Liminal It begins again.

Leaving the ground is the hardest part, making the first mark on a blank page.

Having made that initial movement towards commitment, all previous expectations become irrelevant. There is no

way forward unless we can join the present. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hard to

fully engage when the mind is somewhere in the future, imagining what lies ahead, or dwelling in the past.

We enter into the liminal for a time, a nowhere space,

tracing the edges of the unknown with our fingertips. As we traverse the void of possibility, drawing silent lines across

the rock, each fleeting emotion crystallizes and drops to the floor, blended into the paint with each stroke of the brush.

Alertness prickles the mind, and if we are lucky, a calm

flow drives the heart forward. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s unclear how much time

has passed; just felt moments sliding on top of one another. Nearing the end, the drawing takes on a sense of

completeness, a circle. We look up and see the edge of the land, stark and solid against the sky.

The experience soon evaporates, leaving only impressions.

If we have managed not to stray, something of that essence will be captured on the page before us.

- Tessa Lyons on the creative process behind her artwork

We look up and see the edge of the land, stark and solid against the sky

Tessa Lyons is an artist and a climber. Find out more about her work at tessalyons.co.uk Ben Silvestre is an alpinist and poet. You can find out more about his climbing and poetry at bensilvestreclimbs.com

PRO RECORD U l tra-endurance bikepac k i ng a c e Lael Wilc ox expl a i ns her l ove o f l o ng days in the sadd l e t hrou g h remot e t er ra i n, a nd revea l s her optimal route pl ann i ng t ec h for a ny b i ke- b a sed a d vent u re

or adventure bikepacking advice, ask Lael Wilcox. From

She has also earned a name for herself as one of very few

the two thousand plus mile Tour Divide race - an MTB

riders who ride to the start line. In 2019 she recce’d the Silk

mile Silk Road Mountain Race in Kyrgyzstan, she’s at home

650 miles to the start of Dirty Kanza XL, and once made

event that follows the US continental divide - to the 1120 picking her way off-road through big, remote landscapes on a bike.

Given her propensity for going big on her goals and

cycling routes, you might be surprised to read that Lael’s

inner compass is not inherently functional. In fact, for the first years of her cycling life, the route planning was always outsourced to someone else. Her initial adventures by bike

Road Mountain Race in Central Asia before the event, rode the journey from her home in Alaska to the start of the 2100

mile Tour Divide in Banff by bike. To Lael, time on the bike is invaluable to her success. Riding to races allows her to get

her head in the game, test her kit, and let her body adapt to

long days in the saddle. And when it comes to adventure, her quirk for riding routes before the official race doubles the fun. ‘I love riding a route before a race because I get to know it

through Africa and South America were done with her

more intimately. I love experiencing the same terrain multiple

sense of direction - I even get lost inside buildings’ she claims.

section at a different time of day or in a different season, and

partner, who was in charge of navigation. ‘I have a horrible

But where there’s a will, there’s a way, so when Lael

decided that she wanted to give the Holy Land self-supported

bikepacking race a go in 2015, she figured it out. She hopped on the GPS navigation bandwagon and hasn’t looked back since. In fact, she’s looked determinedly forward, adding

different tech to her kit to ensure her rides are the best they can be. These days Lael uses komoot, a route-planning and

times because every time is different - I’ll see a different can have a very different experience. For example, my partner Rue and I toured the Silk Road Mountain Race route last summer in July and most days it was 38°C. When I raced it

in August, it snowed half of the days and the sub-zero night time temperatures were a totally different experience. But I really enjoyed both.’

Ultra-endurance queen Wilcox explains her passion for

navigation app, to configure her rides:

distance riding: ‘I love to ride and I love to race, and if I get

Christmas in 2017. I made a 311 mile route from Tucson,

not letting a poor sense of direction stop her. And if route-

‘I went on my first long, komoot-planned ride over

Arizona to Pie Town, New Mexico - a point to point trip.

I didn’t look too closely at the route before riding it and was surprised to ride through the Salt River Canyon - which is so beautiful! Komoot has given me the ability and confidence to ride places I’d never expect to find or plan to go. It’s so much

fun.’ After five years as a pro ultra-endurance rider, Lael loves

to do both, I feel like there’s no compromise’. Clearly she’s planning and navigation are your own weak points, that shouldn’t stop you either.

Go to komoot.com/user/540861567090 to see Lael’s rides

on her komoot profile, and get inspired to plan your own. Scan the QR code to view Lael’s komoot profile.

riding her bike more than ever.

Her riding CV now includes big races like the Trans Am

[a 4200 mile coast to coast road race], the Navad 1000 [a 621

mile ride that includes 100,000 feet of climbing over Swiss passes], and pioneering new routes like the Baja Divide.

FACING PAGE: Lael Wilcox at Antelope Wells, New Mexico, having just finished the 2100 mile Tour Divide race starting in Banff Canada. RUGILE KALADYTE / KOMOOT

PROMOTED CON TEN T IN ASSOCI AT ION W IT H

PA R T I N G S H O T Photograph | Rugile Kaladyte

Leading American ultra-endurance cyclist Lael Wilcox on the

In 2015, Wilcox broke the women’s record on the Tour Divide

a 2100 mile race down the spine of the American west, starting

respiratory infection. ‘I love to ride and I love to race, and if I

dusty backroads of the Wild West during the 2019 Tour Divide, in Banff, Canada and ending in Antelope, New Mexico.

by more than two days in spite of early problems due to a get to do both, I feel like there’s no compromise’ she says.

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